Darkest Before the Dawn
by northernexposure
Summary: When a body washes up on the banks of the Thames, the team face a particularly tough investigation. Non season-specific. There will be H/N.
1. Chapter 1

**Darkest Before the Dawn**

**Summary: **When a body washes up on the banks of the Thames, the team face one of their most challenging investigations yet.

**A/N:** Please note that this will touch on mature themes – not sexual ones, but this is a story about violent death, after all. It will likely be quite graphic in its descriptions. It'll also have good doses of angst and Nikki/Harry-ness along the way.

Reviews are heartily encouraged. In fact, they make my day…

* * *

**One**

It was early. Big Ben had not yet struck the hour at five, and a cold, grey mist was rising from the Thames to join a colder, greyer sky. The tide was out and the winter water was icy and sluggish. On the south side of the riverbank, below the silent and disused bulk of Albert Bridge, the day was dawning badly.

Detective Inspector Saul Ash pulled his gaze from the water and forced it back to the corpse at his feet. He found that he could not look at the mass of rotting meat that had at some point been a human torso for more than a minute or so at a time. Longer made him want to vomit, an activity that the rookie constable who had first attended the emergency call was herself currently engaged in. Ash could hear the unmistakable sounds of retching from the river's edge. At least the young woman had been thoughtful enough to make sure she disgorged the contents of her tortured stomach downstream, and therefore away from his crime scene.

A chill that had nothing to do with the early hour settled in Ash's bones. Murder was a bad business always, but this – this was something else. He swallowed bile again as his seasoned eyes traced the lacerations carved into the narrow ribcage and the jagged edges of skin where the victim's shoulder had once met an arm. Now, there was nothing there - nothing but a cross-section in bruise and bone, an obscene insight into human tissue.

He heard footsteps behind him, crunching over the pebbles of the shallow beach, and turned to see Reuben Salter approaching. His fellow detective tucked his notepad back into the inside pocket of his jacket as he came to a standstill beside Ash, a frown on his face.

"Nasty one, this, guv."

Ash nodded, looking over Salter's shoulder toward an old, grey-haired man in dirty clothing, sitting in their unmarked car. Ash jerked his chin. "So, what's his story?"

"This is one of the places he comes to kip. Got a bit more than he bargained for this morning. Saw it wash up on the beach. Gave him the fright of his life, poor old sod."

"You think he's harmless?"

Reuben shrugged. "He's too weak to pee straight. Can't see him being responsible for this. Whatever 'this' is…"

"Alright. Try to get him into one of the shelters. Keep tabs on him, just in case."

"Right you are." Ash saw Reuben swallow hard as he looked down at the rotting torso. "Bit of a shocker, isn't it? Haven't seen one this bad before. Have you?"

Ash nodded slowly, squinting out over the water as the first rays of weak winter sunlight danced along the wash. "Yeah. I have. Not for a while, though."

"It looks on the small side."

Ash looked back down at the corpse. The young day was already hanging heavy on his shoulders. "That's because it belonged to a child. Time to call forensics, I think." Ash saw Salter reach for his mobile, and decided it was time he checked on the rookie. He turned back before he reached her, calling over the wind.

"Better tell them it's a bad one," he said. "I think even they'll need a warning over this."

**-X-**

"Are you sure you're OK, going on your own?" Harry watched as Nikki searched for something in her drawer. The clock had just passed 6am, and she hadn't even had a chance to take her coat off. "They said it was a bad one."

She glanced at him briefly as she continued to rifle, eyebrows raised. "You mean there's a good sort of death? Dr Cunningham, have you been holding out on me all these years?"

Harry shook his head, failing to hide his amusement. "Actually, I think there probably is. But now is not the time. Anyway, you know what I mean. For the police to think it worth a warning, it's got to be bad."

Nikki paused, stuffing whatever it was she'd been looking for into her bag. "I thought you said you had a report to finish?"

"I do. But it's just a report. It can wait…"

"Would this be the report that was due last week?"

"Might be."

"The report for the case that's going up before the CPS tomorrow?"

"Possibly…"

She smiled, a sharp flash of beauty in the sterility of their office. "I'll be fine. For you to be here, _this _early… I can only assume Leo threatened you with a particularly severe penance."

Harry grimaced. "He did mention something about nightshift for a year."

"Well then, there you go," Nikki said, slinging her bag over her shoulder and turning on her heel. "Can't have all those young women out there deprived of your company for 365 days on the trot, can we?"

She was gone before he'd had a chance to think up an appropriate retort. Harry stared down at his keyboard with a sigh. Then he stood up and went in search of coffee.

**-X-**

By the time Nikki arrived at the site, the police were there in force. She flashed her credentials and pulled her car in as tight to the kerb as possible. Albert Bridge had been closed for years, but that didn't stop the weight of traffic flowing past it toward Vauxhall. She opened the boot and pulled out her protective gear. Below, on the bank of pebbles that passed for a beach at low tide, the edges of a white polythene tent flapped in the winter breeze.

"Doctor Alexander?"

Nikki straightened up from pulling on her shoe covers. "Yes?"

The deep voice that had addressed her belonged to a man who looked as if he were touching 6' 5", with shoulders more than broad enough to match his height. He held out a hand, which dwarfed hers as she shook it. His wide face was sombre, his eyes dark and expressive. "Detective Inspector Ash. Sorry to get you out so early."

"Don't worry," she said, pulling her bag from the back seat and pushing the door shut. "That's what I'm here for."

"You'll probably wish you weren't once you see what we've got for you," Ash said, as he led her down the gangplank and on to the pebbles. "We also don't have much time – the tide's going to turn in an hour, so we'll have to move the remains before then."

Nikki nodded, watching her step on the slippery stones underfoot. "Pity we didn't get here sooner, then."

"We called you as soon as possible, Doctor," the DI said, mildly. "And I know you people don't like to be influenced by first impressions that aren't your own, but I don't think this is the primary crime scene. We've got a witness who saw the body wash up."

Inside the tent, sound was oddly muted. The police had rigged up a set of lights, which glinted harshly off the wet pebbles below. Nikki had to look twice before she could identify the lump of flesh in the centre of the covered space as human. It didn't even look mammalian. Her hands shook slightly, involuntarily. She clenched them.

"God."

"I don't think God had anything to do with this, Doctor Alexander."

Nikki didn't answer, kneeling instead beside the torso. The stench was appalling, a combination of snails and rotting faeces. DI Ash crouched beside her.

"It's a child, isn't it?"

She nodded. "Yes, or a very young adult. Of African or West Indian extraction." Nikki looked at the pelvis, and felt her stomach shift uneasily at the sight of the bones poking through the cavity where the legs should have been. The genitals were gone, too. "Male. Age… uncertain at this point. Possibly around 12, 13."

Ash pointed at a series of cuts along the ribs.

"Boat propeller, do you think?" he asked.

Nikki reached forward with one gloved hand and touched the decaying skin. It slid wetly beneath her touch. It was loose: the body had been in the water for at least 12 hours. She could see two ribs, visible beneath the cuts. "I don't think so. They seem too close together."

"What, then?"

She shook her head. "I can't say yet." She tipped the remains away from her slightly, taking a closer look at the transected right shoulder. "You haven't found any of the missing limbs? The head?"

"No," the detective told her, his deep voice quiet in the muted hush of the tent. "Doctor, I can't imagine this is anything but murder."

She glanced at him. "You _know_ it's too early for me to say."

Ash nodded, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Yes, I know. But if this is murder…"

Nikki took pity. "I think you're right about this not being the primary crime scene," she said. "I think the body washed here from elsewhere. After the PM, I might be able to narrow down exactly where."

"Can we move him, then?" The DI pushed himself to his feet, holding out a hand to help her up. His hand was warm in the chill air. "I've got a fingertip search team ready to move in. If we leave it until the next tide, there'll be no point."

"Give me a few more minutes," Nikki said, reaching into her bag for her camera. "Then – yes."

There was a rustle of plastic as Ash left. Nikki stood for a moment, staring down at the remains of someone's son. She blew out a breath, trying to dissociate herself from what she was looking at. It was the first thing she'd been taught. _Take a mental step back. Distance yourself. _

She'd never really managed it.

**-X-**

**[TBC]**


	2. Chapter 2

**Darkest Before the Dawn**

**Two**

Harry had finished his report by the time Nikki returned. He looked up to see her striding into the office, an unsettled look on her face. Her features were pinched with cold. Harry stood, grabbing her mug and reaching to pour her a hot drink.

"How was it?" he asked, moving back toward her desk as she shrugged off her coat and dropped into her chair.

"Pretty awful. A child's torso. Not white."

Harry paused. "What, like-"

"Yes," she sighed. "Like that."

"Who's investigating?"

Nikki shook her head, accepting the mug and wrapping both her hands around it. He could see her knuckles turning white. "No one I recognised," she said. "DI Saul Ash. He'll be here in a minute. He wants to observe the PM."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're doing it now?"

"Yes – the remains have just arrived. I said I'd rush it through. He's understandably worried that this is murder." She took a mouthful of her coffee and swallowed it before adding, "at first glance, I'd have to say he's probably right to think so."

"So there are limbs missing?"

Nikki nodded, shutting her eyes as if against an image he couldn't see. "All of them, and the head."

Harry frowned, leaning against her desk with his back to her computer. His thigh brushed hers, and he could feel how cold she was, even now. "ID will be difficult, then. Unless there are identifying marks."

Nikki didn't say anything, but nodded. Harry rested a hand on her shoulder.

A noise sounded in the wide corridor behind them. Harry looked up to see two men being led in by Zak. One of them seemed tall enough to brush his head against the ceiling.

"I think your DI Ash is here," he said, standing up, "At least I _hope_ that's the police. That's not the sort of bulk you want _outside_ the law, is it?"

Nikki stood up with a faint smile as Zak approached. "Thanks, Zak. Can you prep for me? Call when you're ready for us. DI Ash," she went on, "this is Doctor Harry Cunningham, a colleague."

The two men shook hands, and then Ash introduced his companion. "Detective Reuben Salter, this is Doctor Alexander. She attended earlier." Harry saw Ash's dark gaze flick directly to Nikki's as he added, "Salter was co-ordinating the door-to-doors when you examined the site. We'll be working the case together."

Harry faded out for a moment as he contemplated DI Ash. The man wasn't just tall, he was _massive_. Certainly the sort you wouldn't look to start an argument with. Yet he seemed to carry himself deliberately carefully, as if to limit his physical impact. His wide shoulders were hunched beneath his overcoat. His hands were hidden in his pockets. He was listening, carefully, as Nikki ran through the PM procedure, though Harry doubted it was the first the DI had attended. He was the sort of man whose size could not help but command respect, and yet he clearly looked to earn it first by giving it. It made him instantly likeable.

_A rare cop, then_, Harry thought, _and probably a good one_.

"Something the matter, Doctor Cunningham?"

Ash was looking at him, and Harry realised he'd been caught staring. "Sorry," he laughed. "Very rude of me. I was just thinking that if you signed up for the England rugby team, we'd instantly flatten our way to the top of the Six Nations."

Detective Salter chuckled. "Tell me about it. We've been trying to talk him into joining the Met's team for years. It's a no go, sadly."

Ash smiled. "It's too violent a game for me. They made me play it at school, but I hated it. Too easy to hurt someone."

Harry smiled. "That's surprisingly reassuring."

The telephone rang on Nikki's desk. She reached for it, holding it to her ear for a moment. "OK," she said. "We'll be right down." She looked up at Ash as she replaced the receiver.

DI Ash nodded with a deep sigh. "Right, then. Let's get this over with. After you, Doctor Alexander."

**-X-**

Leo had just shut the door to his office behind him when Nikki and two men he didn't recognise trooped past. Harry followed him inside a moment later.

"The Thames case that came in early?" He asked, nodding at the three rapidly retreating backs.

Harry nodded. "That's right. From the little Nikki said, I think it's a bit of a nasty one. You might want to check it out, though."

"Oh?"

"It's a black child. Torso only."

His heart sank. "Right. I'll go down a little later, then." Leo put his briefcase on the floor and shouldered off his coat. "Who's the colossus?"

"A Detective Inspector Ash. Heard of him?"

Leo paused with a frown, surprised. "Ash? I have, actually. Not for a while, though. So that's him, is it?"

Harry nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Seemed like a good guy."

"Yes, he was always highly thought of. About five years ago he was held up as a shining light. Charged up through the ranks, that kind of thing. He was mooted as a future Commissioner in the making."

"Oh? Why haven't I ever come across him, then?"

Leo flicked on his computer, shaking his head. "He kind of dropped out of sight. I seem to remember that he had family problems. His wife – I think his wife killed herself, and after that…" He shrugged. "Perhaps his world view changed. Certainly his name stopped being the buzz word it had been."

Harry blew out a breath. "Christ. Poor guy."

"That was the other thing about him," Leo remembered. "He was utterly devout in his faith. Should have been a priest but decided that policing was his personal Christian calling."

"Really? He didn't strike me as the sort."

Leo nodded. "I think that's what made him so valuable, apart from his obvious capabilities. He wasn't a preacher, he was a doer."

Harry snorted with amusement. "Remind you of someone?"

Leo smiled. "Is Nikki OK? I'm sorry I couldn't attend myself – there was somewhere Janet and I needed to be."

"She's fine. You know Nikki. Anything we can do…"

"Isn't that the truth?" Leo sighed, and then nodded at the file Harry had under his arm. "I hope that's what I think it is."

"It is. All present and correct. Finally."

"Ah, well. Better late than never, I suppose. Now, I've got work to do…"

Harry grinned, and Leo shook his head as he watched him leave. _Competent beyond all reproach,_ he thought to himself, not without affection. _But mature? Hardly. _

**[TBC]**


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Reuben Salter looked down through the slanted glass with a sigh. Below, Doctor Alexander was talking quietly with her assistant, a boy who didn't look as if he could be more than 16. The remains had been laid out on a metal gurney in the centre of the mortuary. Somehow, from the observation room, they looked even smaller.

"Alright, Salter?"

The detective looked at his friend and partner, standing a few paces to his left. Salter knew Ash well enough to read from the look in his eye that he was finding this as difficult as anyone. It was just that the man was built like a rock. And no one expected much emotion from a rock. Which was just as well, because you rarely got any from Ash, at least on the surface.

"Fine. Well, not fine, obviously. You know what I mean." He nodded down at the blonde woman below. "Do you think she's going to be OK for this?"

"Why wouldn't she be?"

Salter shrugged, wishing he hadn't spoken. But it was too late. The guv had a way of eliciting the uncomfortable truth, even from his fellow officers.

"Just doesn't seem right, somehow," he muttered, somewhat lamely.

"What doesn't?"

Salter moved his head in the direction of Alexander. She'd begun to wash what was left of the child's torso, pulling down a hose rigged to the pipes on the ceiling and directing the jets at the dead flesh. "Her. Doing that."

"What are you talking about?" Ash frowned. "She's obviously competent."

"I know she is, in fact – she wouldn't be here otherwise, would she? This place has a sterling reputation."

"Then what's the problem?"

Salter shrugged. "Call me old-fashioned, but she's just a slip of a girl. I mean, you could snap her in two, soon as look at her."

He saw Ash's raised eyebrow. "By 'girl', I think you mean 'woman'," said the DI. "And that's not just old-fashioned, Reuben, that's sexist."

Salter sighed. "Come on, I didn't mean it like that. I know she can do the job. She's handling that mess down there better than I ever could. But… I don't know. How does a g- a _woman_ like that end up doing this sort of dirty work?"

"'A woman like that?'"

He sighed. "Guv. Even _you_'ve got to admit she's a darn sight easier on the eye than most women you pass in the street."

"What do you mean, 'Even me?'"

Salter shifted on his feet, uncomfortable. "I know you don't normally notice that kind of thing."

He saw Ash turn his gaze back to the young pathologist below. "It's not that I don't notice, Salter. It's that I don't assume that what people look like has any bearing on them as people."

"Neither do I!"

"You just did!"

"Well – that's not what I meant. I just meant… I don't know. It's a bit unexpected, that's all. She's seriously beautiful, and she cuts up dead bodies for a living. It's a little bit weird. You can admit that, can't you?"

Ash turned to look at him. They'd been working together for years now, and Salter had never respected a man more. But sometimes, just sometimes, trying to find common ground with Saul Ash could be like getting a United fan to admit City weren't entirely shit.

"Forty years ago, being a copper would have been near impossible for me. And a DI? Forget it," Ash observed. "All because of thinking not dissimilar to that."

Salter nodded. "You're right. Sorry." And he was.

The DI smiled, one of the wide, guileless gestures that Salter found somehow surprising from him, even now.

"OK," came the distorted voice of Doctor Alexander, through the speaker. "I'm ready to start."

The DI leaned over and flicked the switch on the wall to speak back. "Thank you, Doctor," he said. "Take as long as you need. I know this one's not easy."

Ash turned off the mic again, settling back into his chair. "I had, actually," he said, quietly, after a moment.

"Sorry?"

"Noticed. As it happens."

**-X-**

Nikki took a deep breath. Washing the body had revealed a mottled, bloated layer of epidermis that was already beginning to putrefy. Post-immersion autopsies were always difficult. Even a short amount of time in the water caused swelling and disfiguration beyond what had occurred at the time of death. Determining post-mortem what had occurred at the point of expiration as opposed to what was as a result of the immersion was always difficult. This looked as if it would be no different.

She began by conducting an initial external examination, looking at the flesh inch-by-inch, speaking aloud for the benefit of the two policemen looking on. There wasn't much to see, at least on the chest and thorax. At least, not until she reached the deep lacerations cut into the child's ribcage.

"There's evidence of bruising here, around each of the cuts," Nikki said, aloud. "They were made while the victim was still alive." She probed deeper into one of the wounds, opening the slit of skin wider with a spatula. "They seem to have been made in one swift, cutting motion, moving from left to right – from the posterior of the ribcage, to the anterior," she said. "There are no jagged edges – indicating no hesitation in the motion."

"Any indication of what caused them?" DI Ash's voice spoke from above her head. She didn't look up.

"There are nicks on at least two of the ribs," Nikki said, after a moment. "Consistent with some sort of knife, in my opinion. Not serrated. Quite a substantial blade, judging by the width of the groove cut."

"A machete?"

This time, Nikki looked up. Ash was standing now, looking down at her with a grave look on his face. She knew what he was asking.

"I won't be able to tell until I conduct more tests on the bone," she said. "Yes, it's possible. But at this time it's equally possible that the weapon could be a carving knife or a meat cleaver."

Ash nodded. "But it's murder?"

She shook her head. "I haven't found cause of death yet."

"Those cuts wouldn't have done it?"

Nikki went back to the lacerations. One of them was deeper than the others, striking beyond the rib and into the lung beyond. "This one might have. It punctured his lung. I'll know more when I open him up." She looked over at Zak. "Can you help me turn him over?"

They levered the corpse onto its side and from there, onto its front.

"Wow," said Zak, as soon as the boy's back became visible. "What the hell is that?"

The skin on the boy's back was criss-crossed with long, thin scars. Nikki pressed her gloved fingers along one. It ran from the left shoulder to the right hip, disappearing into and then reappearing from a mass of lighter scar tissue across the centre of his spine.

"'I've got a tree on my back'," Nikki muttered.

"Sorry?" Zak asked.

"It's a quote," came Ash's voice, from above their heads. "From Toni Morrison, I believe."

Nikki glanced up at him. "Yes. This boy's been whipped. Badly, and repeatedly."

"Did it occur at the time of death?"

She shook her head. "No. These scars have had time to heal. Zak, can you take some pictures, please?"

Once that was done, Nikki turned her attention to the great, gaping wounds where the child's head and limbs should have been. She was about to move on to the severed neck when the door behind her opened and Leo came in, dressed in scrubs. He held up his hands.

"Sorry. I don't want to interfere. Just thought I'd come and see how you're getting on."

"It's fine. Take a look at this," Nikki pointed to the first shoulder wound she'd looked at. "I haven't examined the other wounds yet, but to me, this looks as if the arm was removed post-mortem."

Leo frowned, leaning forward. "Zak, can you pass me the magnifier? Thanks." He examined the site for another moment before straightening up. "You're right."

They looked at each other for a moment, and Nikki could see the cautious relief in Leo's eyes.

"What was that, Doctor?"

"This limb was severed _post _mortem. The child was not alive at the time."

There was a pause. "And the others?"

"I haven't finished my examination yet."

"You know why it's important to know, don't you, Doctor Alexander?" asked Ash, as she looked up at him. "I can tell you do. Both of you."

Nikki nodded. It was what they'd all been thinking, though it hadn't been posited aloud. Something that no one wanted to consider may be happening in London. At least, not _again_. "It's less likely to be a ritual murder. Or at least, it's less likely to be a _muti_ killing. In such murders, the victim is kept alive as long as possible. The power of the death… is thought to come from the fear and pain felt by the victim." She swallowed. "I have to tell you, Detective Inspector, this find doesn't rule out a ritual death."

"But it does make it less likely."

"The child's still dead," Nikki pointed out. "And he still suffered. It just means we have even less understanding of why."

"I know that." Ash said, softly.

She turned away.

**[TBC]**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** A tiny touch of H/N for those of you losing interest… Thank you to the lovely people who have so far reviewed, but some more would really cheer me up! Or is it just rubbish and I should give up? Sob…

**Four**

Later, Harry saw Ash and Salter leave, but Nikki did not return to the office. He left it for half an hour and then went looking. He found her in the locker room, fully dressed, but with her hair still wet from the shower. She was sitting on the bench, one knee drawn up to her chin, staring hard at the wall of locker doors.

"Hey," he said. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."

Nikki smiled a little and dropped her foot to the floor as he sat down beside her. "And here I am," she said.

"Everything OK?"

She shrugged. "Yes. Just – you know. Kids are always difficult. And this one… Harry, the only marks we have even the chance of identifying him by are _whip scars_. I can't even imagine…" Nikki trailed off, blinking. "It just… makes me so sad."

Harry leaned against her, pressing his upper arm against hers. "What else did you find?"

"Did Leo tell you that the limb mutilations were post-mortem?"

"Yes. Which is something, at least."

She nodded. "And there don't seem to be any other indications that this was a ritual killing."

"What about the lacerations to the ribcage?"

Nikki frowned, shaking her head. "They're deliberate and regular, it's true. I've sent the images to a specialist at the University of Sussex. She's an expert in ritual mutilation. But I don't know…"

"You have a hunch?"

"Not a hunch, exactly. But they didn't remove anything. No organs, not even one of the ribs. Why, if the purpose wasn't ritualistic?" She sighed. "But it's not my area of expertise. I just feel as if I'm missing something. Hopefully the expert can help."

"Have you established cause of death?"

"One of the cuts was deep enough to pierce his lung. They were full of blood – he drowned in it."

Harry winced as Nikki's voice dipped a little. Shifting, he draped his arm around her shoulders. "Tough day."

She rested her head against him for a moment before pulling away. He dropped his arm. "Tougher for others," she said, quietly, before standing up and reaching for her hairdryer.

"Why don't you come round later?" Harry said, before she could turn it on. "Cooking me dinner always makes you feel better."

Nikki shook her head with a smile. "Goodness, Doctor Cunningham, what a charmer you are."

He faked a long-suffering sigh. "I aim to please."

"So I've heard. Surely you have some young woman desperately hoping for a phone call tonight?"

He stood up, shaking his head. "Nope. Not tonight. I'm all yours, Doctor Alexander."

Nikki raised an eyebrow. "Lucky me."

**[TBC]**


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

That night, DI Ash ate dinner with Salter and his family. They had spent the afternoon collating the little information that had so far been gathered, talking to the boat captains on the river and checking through incident reports elsewhere. Nothing had set bells ringing in either head. Salter's wife Jenny had called to say there was enough dinner in the oven for Saul, too, if he wanted to join them. It was something she did periodically, one of the many acts of generosity and understanding for which Reuben loved his wife. He suspected, actually, that Saul would prefer to simply spend his evenings alone, as he had done for the majority of the five years since Lydie's death, but he always accepted in good grace and was always excellent company, and perhaps, after all, it did him a little good, too. The children loved him, Jenny knew a worthy cause when she saw one, and Salter liked having someone to share his single malt with who didn't water it to buggery. So, all in all, it was a good arrangement.

"I can't see the thread with this one, Reuben," Ash said now, as they sat in the post-bedtime quiet of Salter's living room. "I've got the fear."

"The fear?"

"That this is just going to slip through our fingers. That we won't be able to indentify him, and we won't find the killer."

Salter took a mouthful of Macallan and swallowed it before answering. "It's true we don't have a lot to go on. But Doctor Alexander's running all those tests, isn't she? She might turn up something. It's early days."

Ash rubbed a hand over his face. "If we could work out where he went in the river, it'd be a start."

"Well, she said they'd go through all that sand and gunk they washed off the body. Maybe there will be something there. If there is, I'm sure she'll find it."

Ash nodded silently as he drank. Salter knew this side of the DI well – the one that was like a dog with a bone, worrying and worrying until the thing fell to pieces. He had the capacity to work himself into the ground, mainly because he had little else with which to occupy his time.

"You should take her out for a drink," he said.

Ash frowned at him. "Who?"

"Nikki Alexander."

"Why would I do that?"

Salter shrugged. "She's the first woman since Lydie that I've even heard you comment on."

His friend sighed. "I didn't comment on her. You did. I was just correcting your assumption that it had passed me by."

"Still. You should. It doesn't even have to be a date. You can just talk to her about the case. Over a drink. Somewhere other than an office."

"What's the point of that?"

"The point is, it'd start getting you used to being around women again. Women that aren't either in uniform and calling you 'guv', or someone else's wife cooking you dinner."

Ash stared morosely at his drink. "I don't need to do that."

"Saul – you do. You _really_ do. Or are you intending to remain single now until you die of old age?"

"In a word – yes."

There was a brief silence, during which both men drained their drinks. Salter reached for the bottle again, but Ash placed his hand over his glass.

"I'd better get going. There are still some things I want to get done tonight."

Salter sighed. "Lydie wouldn't want this, you know. Whatever happened-"

"Reuben," Ash warned.

"-whatever happened, she loved you. And she'd want you to be happy. She's gone. You can't keep punishing yourself. You're a good man. One mistake doesn't destroy that. You have to move on with your life."

Ash looked down at his empty glass before placing it gently on the table. "Look," he said. "I know you mean well, Reuben. You and Jenny… You've been better friends that I could ask for. But you don't understand. You won't _ever _understand. Not all guilt is illegitimate. Sometimes it's there because it deserves to be there. And then… then you should _feel _it."

"Well, you've felt it enough."

"That's not for you or I to decide."

Salter puffed out a breath, shaking his head. "Who, then? Ash-"

"Don't. OK? I have to concentrate on this case. Now is not the time."

Reuben held up his hands. "Alright. _Alright._ But me and Jenny – we worry about you. It's not right."

Ash pulled on his coat with a grim smile. "There are a lot of things in this world that aren't right. That's why you and I are here." He paused. "Remember that asylum centre breakout a couple of months ago?"

Salter frowned at the abrupt subject change, and tried to follow the DI's thinking. "The one at Folkestone?"

"That's right. There were a handful of people they never found, right? Ones that hadn't been properly processed as they'd only arrived in the few days beforehand. Kids, too."

"I remember. What are you thinking?"

"That we should fold them into our missing persons checks. There should at least be photos of all the arrivals."

Reuben nodded. "Good call. I'll get one of the plod on it in the morning."

"Nah, don't worry. I'm going to back to the office. I'll pull the files now."

**-X-**

Harry sent Nikki to relax on the sofa with another glass of wine as he cleared up the debris from the meal she had cooked. He'd been happy to see her unwind a little as the evening had progressed, though the shadows cast by the day hadn't fully left her eyes. He understood – it was why he'd suggested she come round in the first place. There were always cases that got you like that. It wasn't surprising. Some of the detritus of human life that they found themselves dealing with was frankly horrifying. Not to be affected by at least some of it would have been more abnormal than their occasional lapses into the abyss.

He loaded the dishwasher, picked up the bottle of wine, and headed for his living room. He stopped dead in the doorway. Nikki was curled among his cushions, apparently asleep. Her hair had tumbled out of the bun she'd tied it up in, and now fell in waves over her face and across the back of the sofa. Her feet were bare, and he couldn't help but notice that she'd painted her toenails. For some reason that suddenly seemed an incredibly intimate detail. Unexpectedly, something in his stomach turned inside out.

_Why?_ He asked himself, before he'd had a chance to stop the thought surfacing._ Why does she have to be _quite_ so beautiful?_

Harry shook the thought away. She was a work colleague. She was a close friend. That kind of thinking was merely asking for trouble. They'd almost gone there before, and it had been a disaster. He wasn't going to risk it again. She meant far too much… Harry glanced at the glass in his hand. It was still half-full and he took a generous slug before advancing further. Nikki didn't stir, even when he sat down beside her.

"Hey," he said, leaning closer, "sleepyhead. Do I need to start charging rent?"

She woke up so fast and sat up so straight that their heads almost collided.

"Whoa," Harry said, shooting out a hand to steady her.

"God," Nikki gasped. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he laughed. "You're welcome to sleep there tonight if you like. But you might want to rearrange yourself into a more comfortable position, or you'll end up with a hell of a crick."

Nikki leaned forward, elbows on her knees and hands over her face. "No – thanks, but I'm fine going home. I want to be in early tomorrow."

"Ah," said Harry. "In that case, you're on your own. I know what your idea of an early morning is, and it's obscene."

She smiled. "I left the XRF running," she explained. "Thought it might help identify some of the sand and dirt we removed from the boy's torso."

Harry was surprised. "The particle analyser microscope? The one the manufacturers are trying to persuade us to fork out a mint on?"

Nikki nodded. "They brought one in for us to test, remember? Hoping that we'll fall in love with it, I suppose. Anyway, I persuaded Leo to let me give it a try."

He shrugged. "I guess it's worth a go. What are you cross-referencing it with?"

"A study conducted by the Environment Agency. It was done ten years ago, but they collected samples from multiple sites along the riverbank, from Kingston to the Thames barrier."

He smiled at her. "You, Doctor Alexander, are a wonder."

She stood up, stretching with a huge yawn. "Hardly. All I did was feed in the data and the material. The XRF will do the rest. I really hope it comes up with something. I can't bear the thought that I might not be able to identify this boy."

**[TBC]**


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

**A/N:** I know that you're all probably quite bored of my original characters, since I've written quite a lot of them. I promise there'll be more Nikki, Harry and Leo from now on.

**-X-**

Nikki was still at the particle analyser, taking notes, when Harry got in the next morning. She'd been there for a couple of hours already, comparing the data given out by the machine with the reams of observations from the Environment Agency.

"So, what have you found?" Harry asked, once they'd greeted each other. "Is this beast any use, or is it just a funding sinkhole?"

Nikki smiled. "Actually, I've become rather fond of him," she said, patting the sleek blue metal.

"Ah ha – good news, then?"

"Maybe. I've certainly found a lot. The body came quite a way down river. Look, here-" she pulled out an ordnance survey map of the Thames, covering the area of her search, and indicated three points between Wandsworth and the bridge where the body was found. "There are three types of sand, indicating that the remains came in contact with sediment in the river here, here and here."

Harry nodded. "OK. Well, that's consistent with the flow of the river. If you can eliminate elements from elsewhere, then you'll know he was put in the water at the first of those beaches."

"Sadly, it's not going to be that easy."

"Of course it isn't. What else did you find?"

Nikki pointed to another stretch of river at Putney. "Well, there's a gap between here. Nothing in the Environment Agency records matches anything I found on the body. So at first I thought, bingo, that's it. He must have gone in the river below that point."

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' coming here…"

"_But…_ Then I found this." Nikki stood up and reached for a Petri dish that was set apart from the others. Inside were what looked like grey grains of sand. She handed it to Harry, who held it up to the light.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Diamond."

Harry looked at her incredulously. "_Diamond_?"

"No doubt about it. I've tested it twice. It's diamond."

Harry shrugged. "Well, stranger things have been found in the Thames. That's why you get people with metal detectors sweeping the riverbanks at all hours."

Nikki shook her head. "These aren't from a piece of jewellery. They're rough-cut."

"What, in their natural state?"

"Not quite, but they haven't been polished."

Harry put down the Petri dish and pulled up a stool, resting his elbows on the bench as he stared at the map. Nikki sat back down beside him, their shoulders brushing as they both looked at the curling Thames.

"Did the earlier study find similar traces?" he asked.

"No, not at all. What they did find, though, were traces of cement sediment and heavy metals in the same area."

"By-products of industry?" Harry asked, thoughtfully. He put his finger on the point of the map that Nikki had indicated. "Do we know what's on the river bank just there? What buildings?"

"We do now."

Harry looked up at her. "You're already way ahead of me, aren't you?"

Nikki smiled. "Only a little. I _have_ been here a while. On that site is a company that manufactures machinery for deep sea oil rigs. They move their components out by water – ship them straight down the Thames for assembly at a plant in the estuary."

"Don't tell me," said Harry. "They build the drills, too. And these drills have…"

"-diamond heads," Nikki finished. "That's right. What's more, there's nothing on the body from further upstream."

"So there's a good chance that's where he went in the river."

"Well," Nikki said, with a sigh, "it's as good as we're going to get. I've already told the police. Detective Salter is going to meet me at the site in a couple of hours. DI Ash is following up another lead, apparently."

"Well, I'd say that's pretty good work for," he looked at his watch, "8.30am."

She smiled, and for the first time in two days, it was genuine. "I thought so. Nothing's come in so far this morning," Nikki added. "Why don't you come with me?"

**[TBC]**

Sorry for the brief update. Busy day. Will try to write more later. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Sorry for the lack of updates over the last couple of days. Thursdays and Fridays tend to be very busy for me. I'll try to make up for it over the weekend.

**Seven**

Tanner Industries, expert manufacturers for the oil industry, turned out to be a large, white building set along the banks of the river. They were met by The CEO's personal secretary, Richard Bass, a thin, jovial man who ushered them inside with a gale of smiles and the offer of tea.

"Mr Tanner is sorry that he can't see you himself," Bass said, as he swept them up the wide stairs from the open foyer and toward the executive offices. "He's been in Sweden since Tuesday."

Bass opened a door for them. It led into a large, airy room, comfortably furnished with a large desk and an expensive looking sofa and chairs. One wall was glass, looking out over the Thames. Nikki immediately walked to it. Below them stood a loading bay and a dock. One of the huge, flat barges that frequently travelled up and down the river was moored below the slip.

"I'm not sure what it is you need help with," Bass was saying. "But Mr Tanner said I should be sure to give the police whatever you need."

"Thank you, Mr Bass," said Salter, with a reserved smile. Nikki suspected it was the one he always used before someone had proven themselves to him. "That's much appreciated. It's Doctor Alexander that has the questions for you."

"Yes – I understand you manufacture diamond-headed drills here on the site," Nikki spoke up. "Is that right?"

"It is. We're the largest producer of such drills in Western Europe," Bass gave a dry smile. "The Russians have their own factories, and have done for decades."

"I'd like to see the production floor, if possible."

Bass nodded. "Of course. Come this way. I will just ask you to put on protective clothing. I'm sure you'll understand – the production line has to remain a sterile environment."

They were led down to the bottom floor, where the three of them suited up in coveralls and foot protectors. It came as second nature to Harry and Nikki, but she sensed that Salter was less impressed. Still, it meant they could have free access to the production line.

Nikki was immediately surprised at how quiet and empty of people the room was. It was vast – a white, blank space filled with lines of machines stretching to the far end wall of the building. To get into the room, Bass keyed in a code to a pad outside the heavy double doors, and explained that access to the floor was tightly restricted. He pointed out the cameras that monitored the doors and each production line.

"The process is largely automated, now," Bass explained, as they walked between the whirring assembly lines. "Much more efficient, and, of course after the initial outlay – cheaper."

He took them to a platform at the end of one of the conveyor belts. It held a large, cylindrical metal apparatus, which was recognisable as a finished drill head. Nikki and Harry climbed the short flight of stairs that led up to it and stood in front of the head. It was rounded, tightly studded with small, crystalline structures that were embedded in a tight pattern.

"The diamonds?" Harry asked.

Nikki nodded. "Yes. Although…" taking out the evidence bag containing the diamonds she'd found on the boy. She held them up, frowning.

"What is it?"

Nikki didn't answer, turning back to Bass, instead. "Are these synthetic?"

Bass nodded. "Yes. They're cultured in our own laboratory in Stevenage."

"Do you ever use natural diamonds?"

"No. Well, once we did use low-grade naturals, before the synthetics became so much more reasonable – but not for years. And now that we have our own lab…" he shrugged. "There's no need."

Nikki nodded with a sigh. "A dead end, then."

"Is there anything else I can show you?"

"Yes, please," said Harry. "We'd like to take some soil and water samples from down by your docks."

"No problem," Bass said, as they climbed back down the stairs. "Although you won't find anything. It's as clean as a whistle."

"What do you mean?" asked Salter. "You don't know what we're looking for."

"Oh…" Bass looked surprised. "Sorry. I just assumed… ten years ago, the Environment Agency did a huge study of the river."

Nikki looked up at him. "Yes – I know."

Bass nodded. "They found contaminants in the water and traced it to us. Heavy metals, that kind of thing. Came down on the company like a ton of bricks. Mr Tanner's been paranoid about it ever since. I doubt you'll find a cleaner stretch of water from here to the estuary."

**-X-**

Outside, the weather had not improved. The sky was hanging low over the water, and a fine drizzle was drifting in the chill wind. Salter watched as the two pathologists took samples from around the slip. He checked his phone, hoping that the DI had called, but there was nothing. Beside him, Bass stood patiently. Salter was disappointed – nothing about this place or Bass seemed off-kilter. He thought, as Doctor Alexander herself had said, that this was probably a dead end. Which was frustrating in the extreme – they desperately needed a breakthrough. Salter had thought that her discovery of the diamond might have been the thread DI Ash has been lamenting over the previous night, but perhaps, after all, it was just an aberration. Another one.

He looked out over their surroundings. Tanner Industries had been built on a wide, flat stretch of the river that had been portioned up and sold on in the 50s. Now, it was worth billions. Back then, though, after the war, it had gone for peanuts. This had resulted in a strange patchwork of new and old buildings, interspersed with blank spaces. For example, to their left was a derelict warehouse that looked as if it was pre-war. The land it stood on must have been worth a fortune, and yet whoever owned it had let it go to rack and ruin. It looked as if the place had burned, too. It's inner structure stood out against the grey sky like a giant, spindly skeleton.

Salter pointed at it. "What a waste, eh?"

Bass nodded. "Tell me about it. Tanner Industries have been trying to buy that land for decades."

"Who does it belong to?"

"That's the problem, no one can work it out," Bass shook his head. "Some conglomerate that went bust, maybe, or an overseas owner with more money than sense. Either way, we've never been able to trace them. It's an eyesore, too - even more so since the fire."

"Was that recent?"

"Oh yes – just two nights ago. Our night watchman saw it all."

Salter turned around. "Two nights ago?"

"Yes. Went up like touchpaper, apparently. By the time the fire crews got here, it was too late. Mind you, I don't expect the owners will even know about it – or care."

"What caused the fire?"

Bass shrugged. "Kids, or junkies, most likely. I'd be amazed if it's not a squat. Our security guy saw a couple of people running away, but he couldn't give descriptions – it was about three o'clock in the morning, and there are no lights over there, as you can see."

Salter dug his hands in his pockets. There was a feeling creeping over him. It was one he'd had before, one that most coppers would never admit to, but were always inclined to trust. He smiled at Bass. "Thanks for your help, Mr Bass. I think we've taken up enough of your time."

"It's no trouble, Detective Salter. "Anything else you need, give me a call."

He watched as Bass headed back to the building, and then called down to the two scientists. "You two finished? I think we need to find ourselves some hardhats. Just call this 'dressing up as silly buggers' day."

**[TBC]**


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

The water used to put out the fire had turned flame to ash. Nikki looked down at the thick layer of inky black soot that sucked at her shoe covers as she walked among the debris of the warehouse. The smell of sulphur choked the air. Here and there, eddies of wind caught around the exposed structure, whipping into miniature, frenzied whirlpools that stirred the sodden dirt. It was a dead place, and it looked it. There was nothing anywhere that could suggest what the space had originally been used for.

"Doesn't look like there was much here even before the fire," Harry called, echoing her thoughts across the charred space.

"There seem to be tyre tracks here," she called back, crouching for a moment. "They're deep – we'll easily get a print."

"No need." Salter's voice sounded behind them, along with his wet footsteps. Nikki turned to look at him and he held up his phone. "Just been on the blower to the fire station that handled the blaze. They said there was an old car in here – a Volvo estate. They figure it was a wreck even before the fire got to it."

Nikki looked around. "So where is it now?"

"They took it back to their storage facility, as part of the investigation."

She frowned. "They think it was the start site of the blaze, then?"

Salter shook his head and pointed at the far right hand corner. "No, they think that's where it started. Definitely arson, they reckon – they found traces of accelerant."

"Then why take the car?" Harry asked. "Did they find something else?"

Salter smiled. "Very good, Doctor. Yes, they found some marks on the bonnet they wanted to check out further. The guy I spoke to said, and I quote, 'It looked like someone had been at the poor old girl with a carving knife.' Sound familiar?"

Nikki looked down at the tracks at her feet. "I don't suppose there's enough left of the car to get anything forensic out of it?"

"From what this chap was saying, I doubt it. Sounds about as much of a skeleton as this place. They're happy for you to take a look, though. I figured you'd want to. They've given me directions to their storage facility."

Nikki straightened up. "Thanks, Salter. I need to take a look at the dock, first."

"Oh – and in other news," Salter added, as the three of them headed for the water, "DI Ash has resurfaced. He's on his way back to London, and he's got something he wants you to take a look at, so he's going straight to the Lyall Centre."

"Did he say what?"

"Nope. You know as much as I do."

The dock belonging to the warehouse had not been damaged in the fire, although it was as derelict as the building itself had been. Rotting chunks of wood had fallen away from the structure, planks had worked loose and were hanging on only by nails too rusty to trust.

"If they used that to dispose of the body, they were brave," Nikki said, as she looked it over. "It doesn't look as if it could bear the weight of anything significant."

"Maybe they didn't use the dock." Harry nodded down to the bank. Nikki could see what seemed to be scrape marks in the soft earth. "They could have just rolled him over the edge, there. It's a deep enough cutting that he wouldn't have got caught in the shallows."

Nikki moved to crouch beside him. "If they'd put a body in there at high tide, it would have been swept away immediately." She looked around, eyeing the ground carefully. They'd have to take photographs and impressions of the scrape marks. Something else caught her eye. "Look," she said. "A partial footprint. And another, there."

Harry nodded. "Two tracks, but only one shoe. One person, working alone?"

"Salter said the security guard had seen two people running away."

"One set the fire, one got rid of the body?"

"Possibly. But what did they do with the limbs? And why cut him up like that in the first place?"

Harry shrugged. "If they hadn't, we'd be way ahead on an identity by now. Could be as simple as that."

Nikki nodded, unconvinced. Something still wasn't adding up. "Could be," she said.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "Why not just burn the body? That place must have gone up like paper. That would have been just as effective at destroying his identity – and less risky – than dumping it in the river. They must have known it would wash up somewhere."

"Maybe they'd wrapped and weighted it, and it broke free. That could be where his limbs are, too."

"I didn't find anything to indicate that."

Harry shrugged. "They knew the fire crews would be called almost immediately, and they were worried the fire would be put out before the body had been sufficiently destroyed. Or perhaps they knew it would be found either way and they wanted to distance this place from the crime."

Nikki sighed. "If so, they didn't do a very good job of that, did they? Here we are."

"Ah, but we don't have any actual evidence to prove this was the murder site, do we?"

Nikki shivered in the chill wind. "It was here, though. Can't you feel it?"

She saw Harry raise his eyebrows. He had the faintly amused look in his eye that he reserved for when he thought she was being ridiculous. It was infuriating, although Nikki had to admit, privately, that part of her annoyance had to be aimed at herself. If he ever stopped, she'd miss it. Not that she'd ever let him know that.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what? I didn't say anything!"

"You don't have to. I can read you like a book."

"Have I got a good ending?"

She shook her head, determined not to smile. "You know what I mean."

He held out a hand to help her up. "I do. And I'm sorry. I should know better than to mock your hunches by now."

Nikki sighed and looked out over the water. "Hunches are all we seem to have on this case. We've got nothing solid except the torso, and even that isn't complete."

"Maybe the car will help."

She nodded. "Maybe. I'm going to take some samples of this wood before I head over there. Just in case."

"Why don't you leave me to look at the car?" Harry asked, as they moved back to the dock. "Go back to the centre, see what Ash has found. Sounds like he might have a lead."

"OK. Thanks. Do you want to get a drink or something later? I think I'm going to need one by the end of the day."

Harry smiled, and for a moment, Nikki was taken back to the night before. She'd fallen asleep on his sofa, and when she'd woken… he'd been there. He'd been smiling at her, _right_ at her, and his hand had been warm on her arm. For a moment she'd been disoriented, woken from a dream in which she had seen his face.

"Sorry," he said, "but tonight there really is someone waiting for my call. So I'll have to take a rain check, I'm afraid."

Nikki nodded, and felt something unexpectedly painful pulse in her heart. She pushed it away. _Don't even think about it_, she told herself, shortly. _If it was ever going to happen, it would have by now._

"Ah, well," she said, lightly. "I'm sure I'll find some way to amuse myself. "

"Scrabble?" Harry suggested, as they headed back to the cars. "Tiddly-winks? Hopscotch?"

**[TBC]**


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Saul stared at the pictures in front of him, briefly wondering when the whole process would go entirely digital and he'd find himself scrolling through images on an iPad instead of deliberately working his way through these prints. DI Ash wasn't adverse to technology – some of the toughest cases he'd ever worked on owed their solutions to a mass of inert wires finding a path where he couldn't even see the wood for the trees. But it seemed to him that some things were still best in physical form. Like the images in front of him - pages and pages of missing children looking back as he turned each one. At least their likenesses were still physical, even if their bodies were now only theoretical.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes and reached for the coffee mug Leo Dalton had lent him. The Professor hadn't seemed to mind him making himself at home in the conference room while he waited for Doctor Alexander. It had promised to be more peaceful than the station, and so it had proved to be. There was something calming about the Lyall Centre – which was ironic, considering what went on in the basement.

The door opened and Nikki Alexander appeared, holding a sheaf of paper. "Sorry to keep you waiting," she said. "I checked my email when I got back and there was an answer from the mutilation expert I consulted over the torso. I thought you'd want to see."

"Great, thanks." He stood up as she approached the table, an old habit that he frequently kicked himself for, but seemed unable to break. "Anything useful?"

Nikki made a face as they settled themselves. "Well, she doesn't think it's a ritual death. Or at least, it doesn't match anything she recognises."

"Which is what we already suspected."

"Yes," she sighed. "But it opens up a whole new folder of questions, doesn't it? If it wasn't a ritual murder, why sever the limbs at all? And those lacerations around the ribcage, what were they about? They were deep, deliberate – almost surgical in their execution. If not for some ritual, then why?"

"It could be the murderer trying to put us off the scent. Making it look like a muti killing when it's actually something much simpler."

"Simpler?" Nikki repeated. "There's nothing simple about this boy's death."

Ash nodded, looking back down to the pile of photographs and forms in front of him. "I know. I won't lie, Doctor Alexander, this case is haunting me."

"Call me Nikki," she suggested. "What have you got there?"

"Files on missing persons that match the description of the torso."

"There are a lot."

"There are. I haven't finished going through them all."

"No match yet?"

Ash shook his head. "No. But then I chatted to the controller of the refugee centre down at Folkestone."

He watched her frown. "Didn't they have a breakout last month?"

"Exactly. And what he said sent a few alarm bells ringing, so I went down to check it out. He gave me another pile of files to add to the list. And among them were these five."

Saul pulled out the relevant files and spread them out in a line in front of them both. The pictures showed the faces of five boys. They stared at the camera with defiant faces, but troubled eyes.

Nikki reached out, touching one of the photographs. "Well, they're in our age range."

Ash nodded. "And that's not all." He moved the headshots out of the way, revealing another image for each file.

"Oh, God."

He watched as Nikki picked up each of the images in turn, a look of infinite sadness on her face. He wondered if she was aware that she was so expressive – it was a quality he wasn't used to experiencing in pathologists. Most of them closed everything off, he'd found, at least in public. Some were usually worried about prejudicing themselves, or an investigation, and later being held accountable for it. Others simply knew how to harden themselves to the emotional wrenching that went with the job. But Nikki Alexander – she was different. He could read just about everything that was in her head through her eyes, which were large, dark – and lingering in his thoughts far longer than Saul Ash found comfortable to admit, even to himself.

"They look like pretty similar whip patterns to me," he said, quietly.

She nodded. "They definitely look like the ones we found on the boy's torso." She looked up at him. "Did these boys all arrive at the centre together? Where had they come from?"

Ash picked up one of the headshots and contemplated it for a moment. _How young_, he thought, _how young you are, to have such little hope left in your eyes._ "From the Congo," he said, aloud. "They were claiming asylum as former child soldiers. They reported that they couldn't go home as their villages would kill them for what they had been forced to do. They had nothing and nowhere to go. I suppose they thought Britain could offer them a new start, somewhere they weren't known."

Nikki shook her head. "But what about the whip marks? Part of their militia training?"

"No… they were used as slave labour once the fighting had stopped. Another reason they were desperate to get out of the country – they wanted to be safe before the gang leaders caught up with them. They don't deal with 'deserters' kindly."

"Did you speak to any of these boys?" Nikki asked. "Was there another with them when they first arrived? Someone who got out in the break and didn't get caught, maybe?"

Ash placed the photograph he'd been holding back on the table. "They were all in the breakout. None of them have been found."

Nikki stared at him. "What, none of them? They've just vanished?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How does that even happen? How can five boys just disappear? They would have had nothing – no extra clothes, no money… It's winter, in a country they don't know. How would they even _survive_?"

"There's some suspicion that the breakout was orchestrated from outside. It's possible these boys had someone waiting somewhere for them."

She made a sound in her throat. "That's got to be rubbish, surely. How would these five have those kind of resources?"

Ash acknowledged the point. "Yes, but the area was thoroughly swept immediately and no trace of them was found. Without help, it's hard to see how they could have disappeared so quickly."

He watched as she looked back at the pictures. "So, one of these could be our body."

They were quiet for a moment, each taking in the faces of the five children in front of them, wondering how the wreck in the morgue could bear any relation to what they saw here. Then Nikki moved, reaching out to pull one of the pictures of the whip scars toward her. She hunched over it with a frown.

"What is it? Have you seen something?"

She rested a finger on the print. "Look – there. What does that look like to you?"

He squinted at it. "Another scar?"

Nikki pushed back her chair and stood, reaching for the scanner that stood on the end of the table. She placed the image inside, and Ash turned to watch as a much larger version of it flashed up on the screen. Nikki walked to it, studying the now-enlarged area.

"It's not a whip scar," she said. "It's a knife mark. And it's lying between the third and fourth ribs."

Ash stood up. "Like the cuts on our torso?"

"Yes – but they're not identical. This must be a longer cut that any of those on our victim, to be visible from this angle."

Something cold and intangible washed over Saul's shoulders. "But you think they're similar?"

She looked at him. "They could be. Is there anything else in their files about scarring, other than these photographs?"

Ash spun on his heel and flicked through the too-few slips of paper pertaining to each boy. He read for a moment, something in his chest constricting with each word. Eventually, he nodded. "It's listed here. They'd only had their initial assessment. Every one of them is noted to have what looks like knife scars along their ribcage. Four cuts on each boy."

Nikki moved back to him, looking at the notes. "But they weren't treated for knife wounds?"

"No – these are listed as already healed."

Nikki frowned. "But that wasn't the case with our body. Those wounds were definitely open, and recent."

Ash shook his head. "So our boy can't be one of these."

"It's too much of a coincidence, surely?"

"What other explanation can there be?"

She looked up at him. "I don't know. Maybe I missed something. With this case, I keep thinking I've _missed _something. I'm going to take another look at the body."

**[TBC]**


	10. Chapter 10

**Ten**

Harry got back just as Nikki was finishing up in the cutting room. He appeared in the gallery above her, his voice filling the sterile space of the mortuary below.

"What are you doing in there?" he asked, as Zak took the gurney with the boy's remains into the back room. Overnight, they would strip the bones, in case there was anything below the flesh that could help. "Did you find something else?"

Nikki looked up at him as she untied her scrubs. "Scar tissue," she said.

"Sorry?"

"Scar tissue – under the cuts on his rib cage. Whoever cut him was opening up old wounds, not creating new ones."

She saw Harry frown. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "At the moment it's just one more thread that doesn't lead anywhere. This case is made of them. Did you find anything on the car?"

"Yes. Do you want me to come in there?"

Nikki shook her head. "Ash has just gone to call Salter. I told him I'd finish up here and then see him in the meeting room. Give me fifteen minutes to shower."

When she got to the conference room, Ash was sitting at the table, alone, still going through the missing persons files. He looked up as Nikki came in. He attempted a smile, but she could see how tired he was.

"Has Doctor Cunningham been in?" Nikki asked, glancing at her watch. It was gone 6pm already. "He's got something to show us to do with the car."

Ash shook his head. "Haven't seen him. I got through to Salter, though. He's hitting a brick wall with the warehouse owners. I've told him to clock off for the night."

Nikki nodded as she loaded up the fresh images she'd taken. "Have you two worked together long?"

"The best part of ten years. We were assigned together straight out of training, and we've been partners ever since, on and off. Came up through the ranks together. He's the best copper I know."

She smiled. "You seem to make a good team."

Ash shrugged. "When you've worked with someone long enough, you just fit, don't you? Like you and Professor Dalton, or you and Doctor Cunningham. I've watched his kids grow up, and when my wife was alive…" Nikki looked up as he trailed off, a slight frown on his face. "Well. You know how it is."

Nikki nodded, thinking it best not to say anything. Instead, she brought the hi-res pictures of the cuts up on screen. They were somehow easier to handle, seen in isolation like this, the mottled skin large enough to fill the screen. It no longer looked like human flesh, but more like some strange, alien environment.

The door opened behind them and Harry stepped into the room. "Sorry," he said. "Had a backlog of calls to answer." He nodded at the screen. "So you say you found scar tissue?"

"Yes." She pointed to the edges of the magnified cuts. "I didn't see it the first time around because I wasn't looking for it – it's not the easiest thing to identify on an immersed body. But here, you see?" Nikki traced her pen lid along a slightly paler line of tissue. "It's not that old, but it's there."

Harry leaned forward and then nodded in agreement. "It's there, all right. So he was cut open, sewn up and then cut open again?"

"Seems that way."

"While you've got those pictures up, let me show you mine." Harry went to the scanner, pulling a memory stick out of his pocket. "The car was a wreck, but the bonnet marks were clear enough. I've taken plaster impressions, too, but I have a feeling this will be enough to tell us what we need to know…"

A new landscape flashed up on the screen, this one drawn in rust and soot. The image was just about recognisable as a large car bonnet. Walking to the projection wall, Harry pointed to four different points.

"See those indents? That's what interested the fire investigators. They roughly correspond to the four 'corners' of the bonnet, if you imagine it as a straightforward oblong. What's more is that I found the charred remains of tarred rope on the bumper at the front and where the door frames would have sat had the car still had any." He pointed again.

Nikki frowned. "Indicating that the rope was used to tie someone down in a spread eagled shape across the bonnet?"

Harry nodded. "Conjecture, of course, at the moment, but it does fit. Now, look at this." He tapped the screen and zoomed into one of the indents. It showed a sharp, smooth line that tapered off as it disappeared into the rotting metal. Moving to Nikki's image of the boy's cuts, he flipped the image to its right, made it into a transparency, and dragged it to the image of the bonnet, overlaying the two until the end of the cut on the boy's torso lined up with the tapered indent.

Ash stood as Harry moved back to get a better look. The three of them stared at the two images, meshed together. The line of the two cuts fit perfectly.

"What I think happened," Harry said, quietly, "Is that they tied the boy's body to this bonnet and used it, like a butcher's block, to dismember him." He lifted his arm, as if holding a heavy knife, and brought it down in line with the two images. "The main part of the blade cut into flesh and bone, but the top end of it thudded into the metal. We're looking at a murder weapon with a blade at least 15 inches long."

Ash nodded. "Like a machete."

"It's possible. I can't say for sure. But I think this does remove any doubt that this was the primary crime scene."

Nikki looked at Ash as the Detective let out a long sigh. "And the fire was too hot for any other forensic traces to survive?"

Harry nodded. "I've brought the remnants of the ropes back with me to run more tests, but I'm not hopeful, I'm afraid."

"Thanks, Harry," Nikki said, into the quiet.

"I'm just sorry I didn't find anything more helpful. Is there anything else I can do tonight?"

She looked up at him. He wanted to go – he had a date, she remembered. "No, we're fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

After Harry had left, Ash turned to Nikki with an unhappy smile. "That's it, isn't it? There's nothing else you're going to be able to tell me. Now it's down to us."

"There's still the rope that Harry brought back – that might tell us something else," Nikki said, aiming for encouragement. Ash clearly needed it.

"That's got to be a long shot, hasn't it? Even if whatever was on there wasn't obliterated by the fire, he said the rope was tarred – you'll never get a print off that."

Nikki looked down at her feet. Privately, she had to agree, but she thought it counter-productive to say so.

"Sorry," Ash said, after a moment. "Look, it's getting late. I'm sure you want to get off."

She smiled at him. "I'm not in any rush. What are you going to do?"

He looked down at the pile of missing persons files. "I'm still only half way through these. I think I'll just keep going."

"Are you sure you shouldn't take a break? It's been a long day."

Ash smiled faintly. "It wouldn't do any good. Nikki – he might be in here, somewhere. I can't just go home and forget about it."

"In that case, let me help. It'll be quicker with the two of us."

He looked surprised. "You don't have to do that."

"Really, it's no trouble."

Ash looked at his watch. "It's almost seven now," he said. "Don't you have anywhere you need to be?"

"No. Nowhere. And it's just going to keep rattling around in my head, too, so I might as well help."

She watched him smile, and was struck how the gesture changed his features, tired though he was. It was like winter sunlight cutting through the artificial light of the room. "I think you may be the hardest-working pathologist I've ever met, Doctor Alexander."

"Not at all," she said, laughing slightly. "I'm just the one who doesn't have a life!"

They settled quietly, side-by-side, working their way through the files. It was slow and laborious, and, after an hour, they still hadn't found a trace of their victim. Nikki had to admit that even she was beginning to tire. Her eyes were beginning to drop, and words were swimming on the pages. Before she could suggest that they have a break and get some air, Ash sat back with a sigh.

"OK – look, we're not getting anywhere. It's getting late, and you must be exhausted," he said. "Let's call it a night, shall we?"

Nikki smiled gratefully. "OK. I won't argue this time. But I'll happily carry on tomorrow."

"You've got enough on your place, I'm sure." Ash stood up, pushing back his chair and picking up his coat. He looked as if he was contemplating something, and Nikki waited.

"Do you – do you fancy a drink?" He asked, at last. "I think I could do with one, and I don't feel like drinking alone."

It was Nikki's turn to be surprised. She hesitated for a moment, but it wasn't as if she had anyone waiting for her at home. And suddenly, a drink seemed like a very, _very_ good idea.

**[TBC]**


	11. Chapter 11

**Eleven**

**A/N:** I did warn you there would be angst, right? Thanks for the reviews and for everyone who's still reading! x

**-X-**

The next day dawned brightly for what felt like the first time in weeks. Harry woke before his alarm, which was unusual. More unusual still was that he didn't immediately turn over and go back to sleep. The sun was streaming through his bedroom window, he'd had a passable date the night before, and he felt rested and relaxed. So, instead of trying for another half an hour's sleep, Harry got up, showered, and went into work.

Nikki had still managed to beat him to it. He smiled as he turned the corner into their office and saw her sitting there, bent in deep concentration over her desk, head resting against one hand. She was wearing a striped polo-neck, one he'd always thought suited her well. She'd pulled the sleeves down over her hands.

"Morning," he said, cheerfully. "I suppose I've missed the worm again, then."

Nikki looked up at him with a beatific smile. "By quite some way, I'm afraid."

He sighed. "Curses. Foiled again."

"What _are _you doing here so early? Or did you never quite make it home last night?"

Harry pretended to be wounded. "Oh - ow! What a low opinion you do have of me."

Nikki shook her head, and he could see the twinkle of mischief in her eye. In his more unguarded moments, Harry sometimes thought he could watch that sparkle all day. "Just experience," she teased, "and, since you're in such a good mood this morning, I have to assume your date went well, so..."

"The date was fine. We had a nice meal. But..."

"But?"

He grinned. "Well, obviously, it wasn't with you. So how good could it ever have been?"

He saw the tiny blush he'd been aiming for. Nikki covered it with a grin of her own as she shook her head with mock impatience. "Poor girl. I bet she's a mess this morning."

Harry shook his head. "Nah. In all seriousness, we both knew it wasn't going anywhere. She was a nice girl, though. Anyway, enough about me – why are you so early again? You didn't sleep on Leo's sofa again, did you? I thought we'd finally cured you of that."

He was rewarded with another amused twinkle. "I just came in to start writing up my notes on the river case."

Harry shrugged off his coat and dropped into his chair. "Hit a brick wall?"

Nikki sighed. "It's like Saul says, unless they find new evidence, I've done about as much as I can for them."

Harry frowned. "Saul?"

"DI Ash," she clarified. "He's really invested in this case. I feel awful that I can't give them more information – he's going spare. I wouldn't be surprised if he went back to work after the pub last night. I don't know what he'll do if he and Salter can't solve this case."

Harry blinked. "Pub?" he repeated.

Nikki stood, gathering some papers. "Yes, it was really nice, actually. We worked late, so he bought me a drink. Can't remember the last time a police officer did that."

"And what did he have to say for himself, this paragon of gallantry?"

She shrugged. "We talked about the case, mostly. He seems pretty dedicated. Anyway, I've got to get downstairs. A double RTA came in a couple of hours ago – if I don't get on it now, it'll back up the rest of the day. What are you up to?"

"Inquest hearing," Harry said, "it'll probably take up most of the morning – at least."

"Oh, yes – the Patterson case? That'll take most of the day, won't it, never mind the morning? I won't bet on seeing you again until tomorrow then. Hope it goes well."

It was quiet after she'd left, too early for anyone else to be about. Harry contemplated Nikki's empty chair, trying to remember what the place had been like before she'd joined them. She'd gusted in like a human whirlwind, tipping everything upside down and rearranging it. Making it better, brighter, without even realising what a seismic shift she was in her own right. He wondered what would happen if she ever decided to move on.

Later, on his way to the inquest, Harry paused to look up at the sky. The early morning sun had already suffocated under a blanket of oppressive grey.

**[TBC]**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Sorry – another very short update. Tough week. Weekend soon – yay!

**Twelve**

The day had not started well for Reuben Salter. The oldest boy was going through the "I don't want to go to school" phase, and the youngest was going through the "I want to do everything my big brother does" stage. It made for a disastrous combination. Most mornings burned through Reuben's stores of patience before he'd even got to work, which really wasn't good, considering the frustrations of their current case.

He looked across the desk to Ash, sitting opposite. The big cheese had offered the DI his own office when his promotion had come through, but Ash had turned it down. Salter thought he was crazy. Right now he'd give his right arm for some peace and quiet away from the bullpen. He was about to turn back to the report he's been reading when he noticed something.

"You're smiling," he said.

Ash looked up. "What?"

"You're smiling. You've been doing it off and on since you got in."

"Don't I usually?"

"Oh sure, you smile - a lot, for a copper. But at people, usually. Not randomly, at nothing."

"Sorry," Ash said, dryly. "I shall try to contain my joy in future. What made you get out of the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

Salter ignored the question, turning back to the file instead. There was still no sign of a match with their missing boy. He closed the one he'd been reading and flipped it over, picking up another.

"I did what you told me to," Ash said, after a moment.

Reuben huffed. "Well, I guess there's a first time for everything."

Ash raised an eyebrow.

"Sorry. Guv," he added, for good measure.

"I took her out for a drink."

"Who?" Salter asked, surprised. "Wait – not Doctor Alexander?"

Ash frowned. "Of course, her. What other women have we discussed recently?"

Reuben was a little flabbergasted. "I never thought you'd actually do it!"

"It wasn't anything special." Ash said, quickly. "We both just needed a drink, that's all."

"It's what's got you smiling at nothing this morning though, isn't it?"

As if to prove Reuben's point, his friend smiled again. "Not for any particular reason."

"There's a very particular reason, and it's Nikki Alexander-shaped."

"Nothing happened. We didn't even have much of a conversation outside of talking about the case."

"You enjoyed it though, didn't you?"

There was a moment's silence. "Yeah," Ash admitted. "Yeah, I did. She's easy to be around. And she can talk about stuff most people won't."

Salter nodded, inwardly pleased. Perhaps Ash was finally ready to move on. A thought struck him. "She's not with anyone, is she?"

Ash shook his head. "I don't think so. She was joking about not having a life. Why?"

Salter shrugged. "No reason. Just that she and Harry Cunningham seem pretty close. I hadn't noticed it before, but when we were out at the warehouse – it crossed my mind. Not sure why."

"I don't think so," Ash frowned. "She didn't say anything about him. He was rushing off somewhere last night – and she said she'd see him tomorrow, so she wasn't expecting to see him later that night. Anyway, it's irrelevant. It was just a drink, between work colleagues, that's all. It's not going to go any further."

"Why not?"

"You know why not," Ash told him. "And it just… doesn't feel right. But I did enjoy her company. It was a good evening, after an awful day. It was good to know that… it's possible."

Reuben sighed. "Don't let it pass you by, Ash. Nikki Alexanders don't come along every day. A guy makes a connection with a woman like that, and he'd have to be a complete idiot to let it slip through his fingers. Take her out for dinner, at least, for God's sake."

"You're beginning to sound like an agony aunt."

"I'm serious! You-"

Salter's phone rang. He reached for it, barking a gruff hello to the caller. He listened as the voice on the other end disgorged a stream of information, none of it good.

"OK, OK – slow down," he said, reaching for a pen and paper. "Where was that again? All right. We're on our way." Reuben stood up as he put down the phone. "And it was looking like such a beautiful day," he said, heavily. "Get your coat, Guv. We've got another one."

**[TBC]**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N**: I hope this isn't meandering too much… I'm really enjoying attempting to construct a 'proper' detective story. Thanks for reading!

**Thirteen**

The second body had been found, not on the banks of the Thames, but in the only slightly less wet undergrowth of Epping Forest. In had begun to rain again by the time Nikki pulled up at the police circus, which had been established at the edge of one of the small B roads that criss-crossed the remains of London's great eastern wood. The sky had grown prematurely dark, clouds closing out the earlier sun. Through the trees, she was relieved to see that they had erected a tarp and strong spotlights, presumably over the crime scene.

Saul met her at the perimeter, his face grim as he held up the police tape so that she could slip beneath it.

"A local man walking his dog found the body at about 5 o'clock this morning," he said. "It didn't take long for the local station to call us."

"You're convinced it's connected to our torso in the Thames?"

"It looks that way to me." Ash told her, as he led the way through the uneven undergrowth. "But you of all people don't need me to tell you what's what. Take a look for yourself."

He stepped aside and motioned her past him. The body – what was left of it - was in a dip among the roots of a large oak tree. At first glance, Nikki's immediate thought was to agree with the DI. It looked remarkably similar to the first corpse, minus the saturation damage. Once again, it was the torso of a black male child, limbs and head removed. Nikki knelt down and placed her gloved hands against the cold skin. Tipping the torso away from her, she examined the ribcage. Four lacerations had been hacked into the flesh, severing skin and sinew down to the bone. There was blood: a lot of it, everywhere.

"These cuts look less precise than those on the first body," she said. "They don't follow the lines of the scar tissue as well as on the original corpse – I can see the scars beneath clearly."

"Meaning what?"

She shook her head. "Perhaps the person making the cuts was rushed. Or interrupted, even."

"Can't have been that rushed," Ash observed. "They still had time to dismember the body."

Nikki nodded. "But those cuts aren't as clean, either. And-" She tipped the body again to look at one of the excisions. A distinct pooling of blood on the mulch beneath the torso caught her eye. "Wait a minute…"

Ash crouched beside her. "What have you found?"

"Not sure. Let's turn him over."

Saul helped her flip the corpse onto its stomach. They both paused at what they found. It wasn't the whip marks – Nikki, at least, had expected to find them. But they weren't the only injuries the boy had sustained.

"That's a projectile wound," Ash said, of the ragged, bloody hole sunken in the centre of the boy's back. "From a shotgun?"

Nikki nodded as she probed around the wound. "The shell's still in there. Shotguns only really have an effective range of 30 meters. It's a medium-range injury – I think he was running when he was hit. He was being chased."

"Would the blast have killed him?"

She shook her head. "Not immediately. It looks like it severed his spine, which would have dropped him where he stood, but it didn't kill him. It would have eventually, but I think this boy was still alive when they cut him up, hence the large amount of blood present at the scene."

Nikki heard Ash take a deep breath, and looked up to see him staring out into the forest, a deeply troubled look on his face. If they had been somewhere else, she would have put a hand on his arm. But the boy's dried blood had tainted her gloved fingers, and in any case, Nikki wasn't sure he would appreciate the gesture. She took refuge in science, and calculated time of death, instead.

"Judging by the fixed lividity, he's been dead for six hours, but rigor mortis is not complete, so death probably didn't occur more than 12 hours ago." Nikki looked at her watch. "It's 10am now, so for my initial assessment, I'd put time of death at some point between 10pm last night and 4am this morning. I might be able to narrow that down after the PM."

"What the hell is going on?" Ash asked. "This clearly isn't a ritual killing, any more than the first one was. What's the connection between a warehouse on the Thames and a patch of Epping Forest miles from anywhere? Why kill one boy before dismemberment, but not the other? What was the murderer trying to achieve?"

Nikki straightened up, nodding to the two SOCO's who were waiting patiently to remove the body. Together, she and Ash climbed out of the dip and stood, looking down at the body as it was bagged.

"If he was running," she said, "he must have escaped from somewhere."

Ash sighed. "Looks like the poor kid knew what was coming," he said. "What a bloody awful way to die."

There was a shout from somewhere off in the trees. Nikki looked up to see a uniformed officer marching toward them, holding a plastic evidence bag.

"What have you got, Nicholas?" Ash asked, as the constable neared.

"A shoe, sir. Looks like a kid's one to me. Thought it might be significant."

Nikki watched as Ash took the bag and held it up. Through the cellophane, they could see the worn treads of the small trainer, caked in mud.

"The colours of the shoe itself are still bright," Nikki pointed out. "It can't have been lying there for long, not in the weather we've been having recently."

"You didn't find anything else? The other in the pair?" Ash asked his officer, "Clothes?"

The constable shook his head. "Not yet, sir. We're still looking."

Ash turned to Nikki. "Think you can do anything with this?"

She nodded. "Plenty."

**[TBC]**


	14. Chapter 14

**Fourteen**

**A/N:** Hoping to write more later today.

The boy crouched beneath a bush, shivering in the rain. For days, crammed under blankets in the back of the truck, his t-shirt had been stiff with sweat. Now it was eagerly soaking up the icy water. It clung to his small frame, useless against the cold. His side ached with a dull burn that blotted out the pain of his hunger. With shaking fingers, he slid his hand up beneath the shirt, wincing as it came in contact with the still-tender scars under his ribcage. He shouldn't have run, he knew that. He was weak, weaker than he'd ever been, even in the worst times of war. But he'd had no choice._ They'd_ had no choice. He'd run, and after he'd run, there was no way to go back. Even when he'd heard the blast of the gun, even when he'd seen, from the corner of his eye, Josue fall. He couldn't have gone back… But he should have done. _He should have done… _Hot tears joined the rain spattering his small face, but they were silent.

Around him, the woods were quiet apart from the rain. He could hear birds in the trees, although he only knew them as birds by their rustling wings and sudden bursts of flight. They sounded like no birds he recognised. He wished he could sprout wings, and escape as they did, straight up into the sky. He couldn't run anymore. Especially now that he had only one shoe.

He had loved those shoes. He had treasured them, the only thing he had in this new life, and the only thing he had wanted to save from his old one. He'd liked the bright orange colour. It had been like a sunset from far back in his memory, from a time and a home that no longer existed, at least for him. There was a song that his mother used to sing to them, as the night fell. The boy shut his eyes and conjured her face, what it had been like when she was alive, before the soldiers had come, _before…_

_Ō-Ō Byanswahn blay Tanner tee-o-o.  
__O Byanswahn jekah jubha.  
__De jo Byanswahn se kah jujah dai.  
__Ō Byanswahn blay dai Tanner tee-o-o._

He pulled off the one shoe he had left, and removed the dirty white lace, tying it around his wrist in case he had use for it later. Then he threw the single trainer, as hard as he could, out into the damp and miserable falling dark. The action tugged the cut muscles in his ribcage, and he bit his lip until it bled.

Something else joined the patter of rain. There were voices, somewhere out there among the trees. He looked up and saw flashes of strange light, blue and red swirling against the inky sky. The boy's heart beat faster, the fear returning. He'd thought they had gone. He'd thought he had outrun them. But here they were, looking for him, as they had looked for Josue…

Adrenaline forced him to his feet. He darted out of his hiding place and into the deeper shadows, barefoot.

**[TBC]**

Song translation (courtesy of Mama Lisa[dot]com)

_Oh boat, come back to me.  
__Since you carried my child away,  
__I have not seen that child.  
__Oh boat, come back to me._


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

**Fifteen**

"Body is that of an undernourished pre-adolescent male, probably not more than 12. The ilium is not fully fused, indicating he was still in the early stages of pubescence. There are no limbs present, and the head has also been removed." Nikki bent down to look more closely at the gaping hole where the shotgun shell had penetrated the body. "A projectile wound of approximately two centimetres is present between T9 and T11, transecting the spinal cord. Size of wound suggests it was caused by a shell fired from a large-bore shotgun." She reached for her tweezers and, probing the bloody mess left by the buckshot, pulled out the shell. Nikki looked at it for a moment and then dropped it into a dish. "Shell recovered consistent with the wound as described. Zak, can you get that over to ballistics as soon as possible, please?"

Turning back to the corpse, Nikki examined the lacerations to the rib cage. Despite their ragged edges, they did not seem as deep as in the first victim. She opened each up with her speculum before looking up at Ash, watching from the gallery above.

"These cuts aren't deep enough to be the cause of death. None of them reached his internal organs. Cause of death - exsanguination, probably from the jugular. I think they severed his head first. Or possibly his right arm, and then his head."

"What makes you say that?"

"The wounds to the left shoulder and hips are less jagged than those at the right arm and head. Indicating..."

"...that the victim wasn't moving around as much," finished Ash. "Right. Well, I guess that fits in with your theory that they were in a rush, or at least afraid of being caught. Nothing like a screaming child to draw attention. But if the aim of dismemberment wasn't punishment - why bother?"

Nikki shook her head. "Can't help you with that one, I'm afraid." she went back to the corpse. "I'm going to open him up now."

The internal exam didn't reveal any surprises. The boy was malnourished, just as the first had been, but apart from a slight congenital condition in the heart which he was likely unaware of at his young age, nothing else stood out. She was about to tell Zak to stitch him up when something caught her eye. She frowned. It was embedded in the subcutaneous tissue beneath the second laceration.

"Wait a minute..."

"What have you found?"

Nikki shook her head, "I don't know. Zak, hand me those tweezers, would you?" She pressed open the laceration further. "A foreign object," she said, for the benefit of both the tape and Ash. "Some kind of mineral. Roughly spherical, it is approximately 5 to 10mm in diameter. Grey in colour."

"How did it get in there?" Ash asked. "Could it have happened when we turned the corpse over?"

"I don't think so. It was too deep inside the wound."

"What then? God knows we don't need any more mysteries in this case!"

Nikki looked up at him thoughtfully. "Don't worry," she said. "I think I'll be able to solve this one for you quite quickly. Or part of it, at least."

**-X-**

Harry was waiting for her in the locker room when she got out of the shower. He was sitting on the bench of the far wall, arms slouched by his sides, head tipped back against the clean white paint. He raised his eyebrows as she walked in.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were at the Patterson inquest."

"They've adjourned it. Mrs Patterson was taken ill. It'll resume next week."

Nikki opened her locker, reaching for her brush. "Poor woman. I can't imagine what that must be like. Forty idyllic years with the person you love most in the world, and then one morning you wake up and he's gone, with no warning. I'm not surprised she's having difficulty dealing with it."

Harry leaned forward on his elbows and sighed. "I know. Still, that doesn't mean it was anything other than a natural death. I think she's clinging to some kind of hope that there's some kind of reason other than that, and… I can't tell her that. There just… isn't."

Nikki paused, sensing his melancholy. Abandoning her hair, she moved to sit beside him, as he leaned back again. "We can't always help people make sense of death," she reminded him. "That's a very personal thing. All we can do is give them the facts, something I'm sure you did in the best way you could."

Harry smiled grimly. "I don't know about that. _Is_ there a 'best way'? And if there is, I'm not sure I even know how to use it any more. Sometimes I think I've been doing this so long, I've forgotten what it actually means. How huge death is for everyone else. Maybe when I talk to these people, these relatives… maybe I don't sound any more empathetic than a car salesman. Maybe…"

Nikki reached out to clasp one of her hands around his. He turned his hand over to lace his fingers through hers. "I've heard you," she said, simply. "And I don't think even Leo could do it better."

He looked at her, his eyes tracing her face. "Do you know what day it is today?"

"It's the 14th of… Oh."

He nodded. "Valentine's Day. Who on earth thought it would be a good idea to schedule that inquest on Valentine's Day?"

Nikki sighed. "It's a little insensitive, I suppose. But, Harry – "

Harry shook his head. "It's a load of sap and marketing nonsense, but it's still a significant date. His daughter told me afterwards that her father always bought her mother a bunch of red roses. Even if he were abroad for business, he'd make sure she got them. A huge bunch of roses, every Valentine's Day, no matter what. She remembers him doing it even when she was little. He never forgot. And now…"

She squeezed his hand. "Don't dwell on it, Harry, please. This isn't like you."

"Isn't it? Maybe it should be."

"No," she said. "Because then you wouldn't be Harry. You'd be someone else, and I don't want someone else."

He gave her a crooked smile, and reached out with his free hand to smooth her hair back behind one ear. She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly her heart was in overdrive, and she couldn't catch her breath, so she shut it again. Harry didn't drop his hand, instead tracing his fingers slowly along the line of her jaw to her chin.

"You're the first person I come to when I'm feeling like this," he said, softly. "Why is that, do you suppose?"

Nikki swallowed, desperately trying to regain her equilibrium. "Because I understand?" She suggested. "Because you know I've probably had exactly the same thoughts at some point or other."

He took his hand away with another faint smile. "That must be it. So. What grand delights have this Valentine's Day brought you?"

Nikki stood up, letting go of his hand. She kept her back to him as she retrieved her brush and began to pull it through her hair with fingers that she was pleased to find were steadier than the rest of her felt. "So far – nothing good. Another torso, like the first. Well, almost. This time the boy had been shot. And – and I'll have to wait for the analyser microscope to work its magic, but I think I might have found another diamond." She shut her locker. "A diamond for me on Valentine's Day. That's a first."

**[TBC]**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **Realised that I needed to round this off before the day turned!

**Sixteen**

Harry kicked himself. He hadn't meant to put himself out there so blatantly. He'd felt so low after the truncated inquest and his encounter with Patterson's daughter. He'd just wanted to see Nikki's face, to talk to her, as he often did when the world felt like an inherently dark place. But he shouldn't have let what was in the deeper recesses of his mind float so close to the surface. It only ever caused trouble, usually for him, and today had proven no different. As ever in those situations, Nikki had been the perfect friend, completely oblivious to the fact that, not for the first time, all Harry had actually wanted to do was lean in and kiss her.

If she'd answered his veiled question differently, maybe he would have done. Maybe he would have taken another chance, on today of all days. But she'd answered him with as much sense and simple honesty as she always did. She'd completely missed the undertone, totally unaware of how the feel of her skin under his fingers had come close to turning him inside out. And that in itself had told him everything he needed to know.

They headed back upstairs together. "What are you up to later then, given the date?" she asked, lightly, as they approached their desks.

He shrugged, closing off his heart with a grin. "Dinner with an old flame, actually."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

"Well, neither of us are with anyone. And she was always a lot of fun."

"Could be the start of something beautiful then? Or should that be 'the restart'?"

Harry smiled. Privately, he doubted it. Long term didn't seem to be in his vocabulary any more. "Who knows? How about you?"

Nikki pulled out her notes and began to annotate them. "Oh, the same as ever. A bottle of wine and a glass for one, enjoyed from the comfort of my sofa, I imagine."

"Maybe our gallant DI Ash will buy you another drink," he suggested, and then wished he hadn't.

Nikki smiled, but didn't look up from her notes. "Maybe he will."

"Would you say yes if he did?"

She put down her pen, and looked up at him. "Is there some reason why I shouldn't?"

_Yes,_ he wanted to say, _yes there's a reason…_ "Not at all. You should, in fact."

"Should I?"

"Why not? You're not the sort of woman who should be alone on Valentine's Day."

"Is that so?" she asked, dryly. "In that case, I've obviously been getting things very wrong in recent years."

There was a sound behind them, and Zak appeared in the doorway of the office. "Nikki – here are the DNA results you wanted."

Harry watched as she swung around and took the manila envelope he held out. "Thanks, Zak."

Zak disappeared again as Nikki took out the two sheets of acetate out of the envelope and held them up.

"What's that?" Harry asked. "Your two victims? Looking for a connection?"

"No," she frowned. "This is DNA taken from the corpse that came in this morning, and some taken from a blood spot inside the trainer that was found near the scene."

"And?"

"No match. The blood in the trainer did not belong to the body we found."

Harry shrugged. "Well, that's not too much of a surprise. Places like Epping Forest get used as dumping grounds all the time."

Nikki put the two sheets on her desk, side-by-side, leaning over them with a frown. "It's not quite that simple."

"Oh?" Interest piqued, Harry moved to look over her shoulder.

"Look at that," she pointed at the mitochondrial DNA results.

"OK…" Harry said, slowly. "You're right, not quite that simple."

"The owners of these two samples shared a mother."

"But you only found one body?"

Nikki nodded. "They searched three square miles around the body, and found nothing else to indicate another victim."

"Except this shoe."

Nikki's eyes widened. "The victim was running, as if he'd escaped from somewhere. What if he wasn't the only boy out there?"

Harry looked at the DNA results again. "It's a possibility. Do you know if there were two brothers among the five that went missing?"

Nikki was already reaching for her phone. "Saul will know," she looked up at him, and for a second he saw an emotion he couldn't read in her eyes. "Well – it looks like I'll be busy for Valentine's evening after all."

**[TBC]**


	17. Chapter 17

**Seventeen**

The next morning, Ash, Salter and Nikki congregated in the conference room. The previous evening, Ash had confirmed that two of the missing boys were, in fact, brothers. Josue and Samuel Kayembe, 12 and 13 respectively, had been among those who had absconded from the Folkestone detention centre. Ash had also confirmed that the police search of the forest had turned up no trace, either of another body, or of Samuel. What they _had _found was another shoe, lace missing but otherwise identical to the first. It was probable that when the body was initially discovered, the second boy was still hiding somewhere within the vicinity. They just hadn't found him, and now he had slipped away. An alert had been issued to surrounding areas, but Ash was frustrated. Somewhere out there was a child, lost, alone and injured. He was also a soldier, from one of the most brutal wars the world had ever seen. Fear and the instinct for self-preservation were an ominous combination under the circumstances.

He looked at the two boys' images, now displayed on the screen before them.

"Poor nippers," said Salter, with feeling. "My eldest isn't much younger than either of them."

"We've got to find him," said Nikki. Ash watched as her eyes passed over their thin faces. Ash was beginning to find the play of expressions on her face mesmerising. She seemed sad this morning, and he wondered why. Perhaps it was just the thought of the lost boy. Ash mentally shook himself. It wasn't his business, and these children deserved his full attention.

"You said you had something more to show us," he said to her, rather more gently than he'd intended. "About the stone you found in the second victim?"

She nodded, and added two hyper-magnified images to the screen. One showed a group of three grubby grains of what looked like sand. The other showed a slightly larger version of something very similar.

"These are all diamonds," Nikki told them. "The first are all less than one millimetre each – chips, really – and were found on the dirt removed from our first corpse. The larger was found inside the body we recovered yesterday. All four pieces share the same mineral composition – I spent most of last night testing and retesting the samples."

"Diamond," Salter repeated. "Well, there's a turn-up."

Ash moved closer to the screen, studying the stones.

"I've sent them to a mineralogist for further analysis," Nikki added.

Ash nodded. "I think we know what they're going to tell us, though, don't we?"

"Wait a minute," Salter said. "I know you're going to say you think these are Congolese stones. Which makes sense. But what was it doing inside the boy? It all seems a bit mafia, doesn't it? Like an extremely expensive calling card."

"I don't think so," said Nikki. "I mean, I don't think that's why the diamond was inside him."

Ash looked at her. "Go on."

"Congolese diamonds are extremely high grade. Trading for the DRC for diamonds was once illegal, as when the civil war was still raging, the mines were all within the war zone."

"Conflict diamonds," Ash supplied.

"Right. The mines were controlled either by rebel factions, or the government itself. Either way, the mines financed one of the bloodiest wars in history. 5.4 million people died in the DRC during the 1990s. That's more than in World War Two. And the reason for it lasting so long was these mines. They used slave labour – children and adults taken from their villages. Usually the ones who were too weak or too young to be used as soldiers, or else fighters who were, for whatever reason, no longer able to fight." She paused, looking up at the images of the Kayembe brothers. "It's probably where these two got their scars from."

"You said it was once illegal," Salter said. "It isn't now?"

"No, as long as you go through the right channels. A scheme was established called the Kimberley Process. It aims to certify all rough diamonds at source, so that buyers outside the country know which mine it came from, and where the money is being spent. No mine within a war zone is issued with the certification."

"Sounds like a good idea – in theory."

"It's a very good idea," agreed Nikki. "But of course, there are still mines that are excluded, for being in sensitive areas, or for still being under rebel control."

Ash nodded. "I bet there are still several of those in the DRC, aren't there?"

She looked at him. "Yes, there are. And human nature being what it is… the black market for conflict diamonds is immense, even now."

"You think they were mules," said Ash. "Don't you?"

Nikki looked up at the picture of the two lost brothers. "It's conjecture, of course. But yes," she said. "I think that's exactly what they were. I don't think they were runaways. I think they had their bodies sliced open so that they could carry illegal diamonds into the country without being caught, and then were put into the asylum process. Then from this end, the buyer arranged to break them out."

"Jesus," murmured Salter. "Is that even possible? You can just – open someone up like a bag and drop something inside?"

Nikki made a harsh sound in her throat. "I imagine these boys are merely the ones that survived the procedure. Or didn't contract an infection once they'd been sewn up again. The stones would have had to be completely sterile for that not to happen to all of them."

"The boy that we're looking for – Samuel. He's probably still got his stash inside him," said Ash. "That could amount to thousands of pounds worth of stock for the traffickers."

Nikki nodded. "They won't let that go lightly. They'll keep looking until they find him."

Salter sighed. "I don't know about you, guv, but all this makes that asylum break at Folkestone look really convenient."

Ash looked at him with a nod. "I think we need to have another look around that place. And another chat to the director."

Salter and Ash gathered up their things, Salter nodding goodbye to Doctor Alexander as he left. Ash hung behind a fraction.

"Thanks," he said. "You must have been here most of the night."

She smiled, though again, he thought it less effervescent than he'd become used to seeing from her. "It was worth it to feel as if I've finally given you something useful."

Ash shook his head. "Everything you've done has been invaluable. Without you, we'd be nowhere." He paused. "Are you all right today?"

Nikki looked surprised. "I'm fine. Just a little tired. But thanks for asking."

He smiled at her, before turning away. He'd reached the door when her voice stopped him again.

"Saul?" she said. "I owe you a drink. Maybe tonight, if you're back before closing time?"

Ash turned to look at her. She was holding a folder close to her chest, the artificial lighting overhead glinting on her hair. His heart turned over once, and something in his fingers sparked like shock.

"Yes," he heard himself saying, before he'd even consciously thought of a response. "That would be great. I'll give you a call."

**[TBC]**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N:** I know there hasn't been enough Leo! I should give him his own case, really, but that would mean this would end up being even longer…

**Eighteen**

Leo looked up. Through his office window, he could see Nikki at her desk. Harry was downstairs, conducting the PM on an RTI fatality. Leo frowned. He'd been working with Nikki Alexander long enough to know when something was amiss. She'd been working harder than ever on the double torso case, and it was obviously dragging her down. He'd come in this morning to find her asleep on the sofa in his office. When she'd confessed to pulling an all-nighter, he'd told her to go home and get some proper rest, but she'd refused. He was worried about her. She had the ability to be completely sucked into a case in a way that was particularly unhealthy.

Abandoning the inquest notes he'd been preparing, Leo approached Nikki's desk. She had rested her face in one hand, and was staring into the middle distance, which happened to be interrupted by Harry's chair.

"Hi," he said. "Everything OK?"

She blinked, straightening up and offering a smile. "Sorry. A bit dazed. I need more caffeine."

Leo leaned against her desk, facing her. "How's the case?"

"Horrible. Dark, and nasty, and the sort that makes me think the worse of my fellow man."

He nodded. "Anything I can do?"

"I don't think so," she sighed. "I just can't stop thinking about those poor boys. And the bodies we've found – that's just two of the five that broke out of the detention centre. Or maybe even just one, since I still can't definitively match the corpse we found with any of the five names we have. So that means there are still three – or maybe four – children out there. One of them we think is on the run. The others? They could already be dead. If not, then they're dangerously close to it. It's awful."

Leo laid a hand on her shoulder. "You've got to take a step back, Nikki. If you don't, it'll consume you."

She looked down at her desk, fingers twining around each other. "I know. I know. And I'm fine. Really, I am. It's just… I suppose I don't have enough going on to mean I have other things to think about."

He frowned. "What do you mean?"

Nikki shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. A life. That's what I need. Something outside these walls. Something… that isn't about this place. Something that might lead to some kind of future. Don't you think?"

"Well," Leo said, cautiously, not really sure what she meant. "That's important, of course…"

Nikki laughed slightly. "Sorry. I just – realised something, yesterday. That I've been letting things pass me by for too long. I'm not getting any younger."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "You're hardly over the hill."

"I know, but… How long have I worked here now, Leo? And how has my life changed, since I got here? It hasn't, has it? And that's… wrong. Isn't it?"

"Surely that depends on whether you are happy as you are, or not?" Leo asked.

He watched her gaze fall momentarily on Harry's empty chair, and felt a pulse of unease.

"I'm not," she said, quietly. "I thought I was. But I'm not. And if you're not happy, you have to look for something that will change that, don't you?"

"Yes," Leo said, slowly. "That would be a good idea. As long – as long as you think you are looking in the right place."

Nikki looked up at him then, with a brittle smile. "I haven't been," she said. "I haven't been looking at all. I've been… floating along. Hoping. And if I carry on doing that, I'll be fifty before I know it. And I'll still be here, in this chair, and it'll still be all I have. And that would just be ridiculous. Wouldn't it?"

**[TBC]**


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N:** Sorry, REALLY struggling to get anything out today. In a bout of sore throat-induced insomnia, I spent most of the night writing scenes for this story, but they're all ones I can't use until later!

Also… sorry for not returning the favour and reviewing other peoples' stories. I tend not to read much when I'm writing. I'll catch up when this is done, promise!

**Nineteen**

The buyer pushed a fat white index finger among the stones. Then he picked up the cloth on which they lay and tipped them onto the small set of scales he had brought for the purpose. He studied the electronic reading for a moment, before looking up at the seller.

"What's this?"

"I told you. We had trouble with the shipment."

"How is that my problem? You already owe me compensation. The warehouse is a wreck. The police have been sniffing around." He turned to pick up the broadsheet he'd brought with him. It was opened at a headline on page two. "Your foolish indiscretions are being splashed all over the papers," he said, indicating the story about the fresh torso in the woods. "How can you possibly be so incompetent? And _now_ I find you are short changing me in the delivery. It is unacceptable. I demand you make up the weight from the second consignment."

The African flexed the muscles in his shoulders and stared impassively out of the panoramic window. "We cannot do that. The second consignment is already short, and the buyer is due to leave the country. They must take priority."

"Bloody Saudis," spat the buyer. "Were they the ones with the entry solution? Did they arrange the route, and the method?"

"No," admitted the seller, darkly. "But they have more money than you, if not more power. We will ensure your compensation arrives with the next shipment."

The buyer made a noise of disgust as he looked again at the news article. "You dismembered them, for God's sake. Why did you need to do that?"

The seller looked at him coolly. "So that we do not need to do it again."

"Savages," he hissed. "It's only going to fuel the imagination of the blood-thirsty masses. They'll love it. The papers will be watching this like hawks. They won't leave it alone now. I told you to make sure it was done quietly and quickly. And now-"

"We had no choice," said the seller.

"So you say," barked the buyer. "It had better not happen again. This pipeline is the best we've got. Do it right, and no one will notice a few unwanted kids going missing. The pipeline stays open, understand? No matter what. And if you can't do the job, I _will _replace you. Do not make the mistake of underestimating _my_ reach."

**[TBC]**


	20. Chapter 20

**Twenty**

Salter stood a few paces away from Ash, speaking to the director of operations for Folkestone asylum processing centre. The centre was a large, square two-storey building. The lower level housed the asylum seekers. On The upper level were the administration offices, interview rooms, and a large medical wing.

"You have to understand," the director was saying, "for a relatively new facility, we're already dangerously overcrowded. It's a clear case of demand out stripping supply. Especially when the powers that be aren't processing our assessments as quickly as they should be."

Out of the corner of his eye, Salter could see Ash staring out of one of the large windows. Below, the centre was surrounded by a wide concrete exercise area, which was in turn encircled by a strong eight-foot wire fence.

"What's going on down there?" Ash asked. It was one of the first things he'd said since the two detectives had arrived. He was pointing to a team of men in overalls. They seemed to be replacing a section of the fence, and were surrounded by guards.

The director moved to stand beside Ash. "We've been having power fluctuation issues," he said.

Ash turned to look at him. The DI towered over the smaller man like a mountain. "You mean that's an electrified fence?"

"O-only at night." the man clarified, nervously. "Our spending budget has been cut - we can't afford to pay night shift rates for all the staff we need to police this place. This is the best option available."

"The break-out in question happened at about 3am, didn't it?" Salter asked. He nodded to the fence being replaced. "Is that the weak link that let it happen?"

"Yes," the director nodded. "The breakout was how we convinced the governors that the spending to renew that section was necessary."

"What company is contracted to do works on the centre?" Salter asked.

"They're called Tanner Construction. They won the original tender to build this place, and have always been the most competitive buffers for works."

Salter nodded, writing down the name. "Thanks. Just one last thing - can you supply us with the CCTV from the night of the breakout?"

Half an hour later, they had seen enough. The director saw them to their car, handed over digital file copies of the video surveillance they'd asked for, and then disappeared. Salter wasn't sorry to be leaving. The centre was a bleak and forbidding place.

Ash was driving, his large bulk hunched over the steering wheel of the pool car they'd booked out fir the journey. As they stopped at the gate, Salter looked up at the sign. It listed the private companies involved with the upkeep of the place, and he wrote them down."

"So," he said, as they cleared the gate and turned for London. "Tanner Construction."

"What about them?"

"Remember when Doctor Alexander thought that the diamond chips we found on the first body might have been industrial? That company we checked out was called Tanner Industries. Bit of a coincidence, eh?"

Ash glanced at him. "Certainly is. It's worth checking out, at any rate. Although they'd either have to be very stupid or very arrogant not to cover their tracks better if they are involved."

Salter looked down at his notepad with a frown. "This whole thing strikes me as the worst kind if arrogance," he said. "Using people in this way. What else do you call it? I mean, other than evil, which doesn't seem quite enough, somehow."

Ash didn't answer. He was preoccupied with something, and had been since the start of their trip down to the south coast. Salter knew him well enough not to push for an explanation. He looked back at his notes again, instead, frowning over something. He pulled out his iPhone and started surfing.

"Well," he said, after a while. "That's just a coincidence too far for me."

"What have you found?"

"When I was digging around, trying to find out who owned the warehouse where the first murder occurred, I came across a name. Gerard Crossfair. It was one of the only names of individuals that actually turned up, that's why I remember it. The rest were names of companies."

"And?" Ash prompted.

"Well, according to the records – which, admittedly, are pretty sketchy - he sold it to a conglomerate called Bathurst Holdings. That was about 20 years ago." He held up his notepad. "One of the companies that runs that place back there is called Burton. Which has a CEO called- "

"Would it be Gerard Crossfair, by any chance?"

"Indeed it would. And… not only that - Burton is listed as being a subsidiary of Bathurst Holdings."

Ash looked over at him again, his dark hands gripping the steering wheel. "So what? You think Crossfair still owns the warehouse? He just sold it to his company to cover his tracks?"

"Stranger things have happened. I'd like to check him out further, anyway."

Ash nodded. "You and me both. That sounds like a lead to me, Reuben. One of the few we've has since the start of this case."

Salter looked at his watch. "There's not much I can do about it tonight except get the plod to start digging up files."

Ash nodded, his pensiveness returning. "What time is it?"

"Almost seven. Why?"

"Just wondering if I should call her or not. Nikki. She asked me if I wanted to join her for a drink. I said I'd call her."

Salter smiled. "If you said you'd call her, Ash, you should call her."

"I didn't mean to say I would. It just... Kind of came out."

"Even so..."

"Anyway, she only said we should go out if I was back in tone. So if I don't call, she'll just think we didn't. You know, make it back."

"And that would be a lie."

"It won't be a lie if I just let her assume."

"It'll be a lie of omission, and the DI Ash I know doesn't go in for lying of any sort."

Salter watched as his friend shook his head. "I don't know," he said, heavily, I've had my moments."

"Why are you resisting this?" Reuben asked, not without exasperation. "You like her, I can tell you do. And she obviously likes you. So what's the problem?"

Ash clenched his hands harder against the wheel. "I made a promise."

"That's right, you did. In sickness and in health. But don't you remember what the second part of that vow was? Until death us do part. And ash, I hate to be so blunt- but Lydie's been dead for five years. You have to let it go."

Ash pulled up at a set of traffic lights, the gaudy colours splashing red against the night. "That wasn't the promise I was thinking of," he said, quietly. "It was the promise to be faithful. The one I didn't manage to keep while she was alive, and the one that I swore I'd live up to now she's dead."

Reuben shook his head. "You can't keep reliving that, Saul," he said. "What happened wasn't your fault. You have to move on."

"How can you say it wasn't my fault?"

"Because people make mistakes. Lydie was wonderful – but she wasn't well. You know that."

"Yes, I do. I know it now, and I knew it then. Which is why I should have loved her better. I should have-"

"Saul," Reuben interrupted. "You loved her. You still do. I know that. She knew that. What happened – that wasn't why she killed herself. And this guilt that you insist on carrying around with you. Years ago, you once told me that you wanted to do good in the world. It's why you're a copper. What good does this guilt do in the world? Guilt doesn't make people happy – you, or anyone else. Maybe you meeting Nikki Alexander as you have, in the middle of this case – maybe that's a sign. Don't you think?"

Ash stared straight ahead. "A sign of what?"

"That there's someone else out there that you can make happy. And that – _that _would be a better thing for this world than your guilt."

Ash shook his head. "I just don't know."

Reuben sighed. "Well, anyway. You said you'd call her, so you should damn well call her. She doesn't deserve to be wondering if you'll call."

He saw a lopsided smile transform his friend's face. "True. Although, frankly, going out drinking when we've still got at least three kids missing also seems completely wrong."

Salter shook his head. "What else can we do? We can't go walking the streets of Essex on the off chance we'll bump into them. Our best shot is tracing the traffickers, if they haven't already high-tailed it out of the country."

"Still, do me a favour and call the incident room, would you? See if they've turned up anything. I can always head straight there. Might as well know either way before I call Nikki."

"They would have called if they'd found anything."

Ash sighed. "Reuben. Just do it, please?"

"You're looking for an excuse not to go out with her. I know you."

"Why would I need an excuse? Call the station. See if they need me."

Salter shook his head as he held his phone to his ear. "You're a stubborn bastard, do you know that?"

**[TBC]**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N:** I'm laid up in bed today, feeling crap and running a temp. Not sure I'm hitting this right at all any more. Hope it's not a rambling mess.

**Twenty-One**

Harry found Nikki in the conference room. He'd hardly seen her all day, as his PM slate had been full and he'd also found himself dealing with a slew of police requests. Usually, though, he would have sought her out sooner – to suggest lunch, perhaps, or a drink away from the Lyell Centre. But today he'd thought it was probably just as well to keep out of her way. After his strained moment in the locker room the previous day, he'd felt the need to get some perspective. His dinner – and what had inevitably followed - with Rachel the night before had helped. That, coupled with a busy day, meant he felt himself back on an even keel. In fact, he was having trouble remembering why he'd been so thrown off-kilter in the first place. It was just Nikki. Yes, she was ridiculously attractive. Yes, he'd thought about the potential of her being more than a friend on more than one occasion. But they worked together. They were the closest two friends could be. Why mess that up for something that probably wouldn't last more than a couple of months even if she _were _interested in taking it further?

Nikki was perched on the edge of the conference room table, staring at the enlarged images of the five boys who had absconded from the detention centre. Not their faces – this time, she was studying the images of their flayed backs.

"Hey," he said. "How's things? Any breakthrough?"

She turned to look at him with a smile that soon turned into a sigh. "Not really. Ash and Salter went down to the detention centre this afternoon. I think they think there's something sinister and orchestrated going on."

Harry walked to her side and leaned beside her, crossing his arms. He nodded up at the images. "What are you looking for?"

Nikki tipped her head to one side. "Well," she said, "what does that look like to you?"

She stood up and walked to one of the pictures. It showed not only the boy's back, but part of the inside of his upper left arm. Nikki pointed to a series of black dots that could be seen on the boy's skin.

Harry frowned, shaking his head. "Aren't they just sun damage?"

"I don't think so. For one thing, he's not showing signs of similar damage anywhere else."

"He might have been – on his back, before he was whipped?"

Nikki shrugged. "I suppose so."

"Why?" Harry asked. "What's your theory?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled the lid off the marker she was holding and, placing the point on one of the dots, began to draw between them, like a child completing a join-the-dot puzzle. When she'd finished, Nikki closed the digital picture, leaving only what she'd drawn on the white background remaining.

"Ah," he said.

"Am I just making that up?" Nikki asked, returning to Harry's side.

"No," said Harry. "No, I don't think you are."

The shape left by Nikki's pen resembled the outline of a cut gem – a diamond, with a small angular shape inside it

"What do you think it means? A brand, used by the mine, or by the traffickers?"

"Could be," said Harry. "Hard to tell if it's on any of the other children though, isn't it?"

Nikki nodded. "None of the rest of them held their arms out far enough for the camera to catch a glimpse of their inner arms," she said. "But, Harry – what if this is why the bodies were mutilated? What if the traffickers were removing this tattoo?"

"Because they didn't want the brand recognised, you mean?"

"Maybe. That would make sense, wouldn't it? It would be an identifying mark."

"But then, why sever the rest of the limbs? The head?"

Nikki shrugged. "It's made them almost impossible to identify. And our first thought was ritual killing. What if they're making up a new ritual?"

"What do you mean?"

She nodded at the images. "It would be quite some deterrent, wouldn't it? What if these boys were just the first, and the traffickers wanted to send a message to those coming afterwards? 'Try to escape, and this is what we'll do to you'."

"Maybe. But that would put pay to the theory that they were in that detention centre willingly, and broken out by the buyer."

"Not necessarily," Nikki countered. "They could have tried to escape after that. Maybe they didn't know what was going to happen until the first boy was killed. And then the rest panicked. Or at least, the two brothers did. They tried to get away."

Harry looked up at the pictures again, and nodded. "It's as good a theory as any."

"That's all it is though, isn't it?" Nikki sighed. "Just another theory. I can't prove anything. I can't even prove that the mark I've just showed you was a tattoo."

Harry reached out, wrapping his hand around her arm with a gentle squeeze. "Hey. That was a bloody good spot. Run it through the database. Who knows what it'll turn up?"

She smiled at him again, just as her phone rang. He dropped his hand as she moved to answer it.

"Hi," Nikki said, to the caller, and then, "Ten minutes? No, that's fine. I'll see you downstairs." She ended the call and dropped the phone back into her pocket. "Dammit. I didn't think he'd be here so soon."

"He?"

"Saul. He's picking me up on his way back into London," she started gathering her papers, flustered. "I wanted to change, at least."

"DI Ash?"

"Yes – we're just going for a drink."

"He asked you out again?" Harry said, lightly. "This is getting to be a habit."

Nikki didn't look at him as she lifted her things and reached to turn off the projection screen. "Actually, this time I asked him."

"Oh, well – good for you. Up the women, that's what I say. Just drinks, or dinner, too?"

She looked up at him then, and for a fraction of a second he thought he saw an emotion he couldn't name in her eyes. It was gone in an instant. "Not sure yet. I guess we'll see how it goes. I won't even have time to put on any make-up. Do I look all right?"

He looked her up and down. "Well, medusa needn't worry," he teased.

"Harry!"

"I'm joking. You look great. You always look great. Why do you even bother asking? That's such a _girl_ thing to do."

**[TBC]**


	22. Chapter 22

**Twenty-Two**

The rain had stopped, but the cold still bit into his bones. The boy called Samuel crawled from beneath the hide he had found – a shallow dip beneath another great tree, overlaid with dense branches. He had lain, curled there, for hours, or days – he had no notion of which. Now, though, he was hungry: almost hungrier than he had ever been in his life.

The sounds of the search had stopped some time before. He'd known it was a search because the men who were part of it had called to each other frequently. He didn't understand the words, but he understood the tone. They hadn't found him, though. They had not been using dogs. At home, there would have been dogs, and they would have been as hungry as their quarry.

Samuel scrambled out of his hiding place and crouched, motionless in the pale light of the moon. This place was silent, but far to his right he could hear the sound of moving vehicles. He recognised it from their escape, the whizzing wet hiss of tyres on unbroken tarmac. It was a road: a large one. Where there were cars, there would be people, and therefore possibly food. He had no money, of course. He did not want to beg – for one thing, there was no better way to attract attention, and for another, he still had pride. Samuel Kayembe may be a slave no better than a dog, but he did not beg.

His legs shook as he walked, of cold, and of hunger. He saw a plant he did not recognise, pale green fronds spreading in long fans. Beneath the older plants were even paler, younger leaves, curled into tight spirals, ready to spring open with the day. Samuel pulled one curled unborn leaf into his hand and bit into it. It was not bitter. It tasted vaguely of nuts. His stomach did not reject it. Eagerly, he broke off handfuls of these leaf-nuts, curling up his t-shirt to hold them.

Turning away from the sound of the road, he retreated back to his hide. Perhaps, after eating, he would be able to think about the future. About where to go, and what to do, and how to do it.

Mostly, he wanted revenge. The men that brought him here, the men who had killed his brother and his friends: they should die.

**[TBC] **


	23. Chapter 23

**Twenty-three**

"How can you not yet have found him?" shouted the seller. "How hard can it be to find a black boy who can only speak French and Baluba in that area of London? You are a fool."

The man who had been put in charge of the search bowed his head. He knew he was on delicate territory. He had seen others like him have their throats cut for lesser misdemeanors than his.

"I think he is still in the forest," he explained. "We could not return while the police were there. But now they have gone…"

The seller made a harsh sound in his throat. "You think they would not have found him? You think that you and your three men have a better chance of finding a boy lost in the forest than a whole army of their police?"

"All I am saying is, I believe he is hiding. And that is the best place for him to hide. He has nothing. He is nothing. He would stand out if he were found on the streets. No one we have asked has seen him. And believe me, we have made sure everyone in that area knows we are looking."

The seller turned away, a scowl etched into his skin. "How can this have gone so badly wrong?" He asked, though all present knew better than to answer. "I have two buyers breathing down my neck. And the police are being far more clever than they should be. We should be ready to leave, and quickly, should it prove necessary."

"Forgive me," said the man in fear of his life. "Forgive me, but perhaps I can suggest something?"

"What?" The seller turned to look at him with yellowed, disdainful eyes.

"Perhaps the police do not have to be as much of a problem as we think?"

The seller frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The buyer. The man who's name only you know. He would be able to find out who is in charge of the investigation. Who… is at the head."

The seller grinned, a thin, cruel smile. "And you think we could pay him off? Is that right? You think it is as easy as flashing money in the right direction? You think that is how things work here, as well as at home?"

The man in fear of his life looked down at his shoes. One does not look a mad dog in the eye. And he said, "Every man has a weakness. For some it is money. For others… Well. There is always something. And if there isn't…"

There was a pause as the seller remained silent. The pause was long enough for the man to realise that his life, for the moment at least, was no longer in danger.

"Go back to the forest," the seller said, in a voice so soft it was dangerous. "Go back, and this time, take the dogs. Be quick. The second consignment is due to be handed over tomorrow. The weight is too short, and I do not want a bullet in the knee. Do you understand?"

**[TBC]**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N:** Please trust me when I say I am an H/N shipper…!

**Twenty-Four**

Drinks had turned into dinner, at which they had actually managed to talk about things other than the case at hand. They weren't drunk – Ash had stopped after a half, because he was driving. It was one of the reasons they'd opted for a restaurant rather than staying in the pub in the first place. Nikki had accepted a glass with dinner, but nothing more. She hadn't wanted to come across as a tipsy idiot, despite her nerves.

Why was she nervous? She wasn't sure she could explain it, even to herself, but she sensed Saul was, too. The atmosphere between them had changed, somehow, over the course of the evening. Dinner had cemented the idea that this was no longer simply two work colleagues sharing a drink to unwind after work. It had definitely become a date. An enjoyable one, too – despite the darkness of the investigation that lurked forever behind both of them, they had managed to laugh, and learn new things about each other. Nikki liked Saul. He was good company, attentive, and witty.

Ash drove her home, stopping outside her apartment block and turning to her with a smile.

"Thank you," he said. "I had a good time."

Nikki smiled back. "So did I."

"Don't tell Reuben, though," he added. "Or he'll crow about it for months."

She laughed. "Why would he do that?"

Ash shook his head with another smile. "Ask me again another time."

"Do you want to come up?" Nikki asked, without thinking. She realised how her offer had sounded when Ash's eyes flashed to hers, uncertain and a little shocked. "Oh –I just meant - for coffee." She could feel herself burning red in her clumsiness, and was thankful for the darkness outside. It's what she would have said to Harry after one of their dinners out, and both had always known it never meant anything more than exactly what she'd said.

Ash smiled. "Thanks, but – I've got an early start tomorrow."

She nodded, "Yes. I do, too. Well – thanks again for dinner. Night, Saul."

"Night…"

Nikki got out and shut the door, heading up the steps to the double doors of her block. She was looking in her bag for her keys when she heard the metallic slam of another car door.

"Nikki!"

She turned to see Saul, looking up at her from the bottom step. He walked up them, toward her, slowly, only stopping when he was on the one below hers. He still towered above her, and he was standing so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Nikki felt a sudden pulse of excitement in her heart, a sharp, stuttering shiver as she watched his eyes search her face. Then, tentatively, he lifted one hand to cup her face. His fingers were warm, his thumb soft as it brushed over her cheek.

A moment later he leaned in, pressing his lips against hers, and Nikki's breath stopped entirely. The kiss was warm, and sweet, his full lips sensual against hers. Nikki twined her hand in his coat lapel, and Saul slipped his free arm around her, pulling her close, just for a moment, before letting her go and breaking the kiss. He looked down at her, with a soft smile, before moving away.

"Goodnight," he said again, quietly.

"Night," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

He turned, heading back down the steps. Nikki opened her door, and then looked back at him. Saul paused, leaning on the roof of the car. He smiled up at her one last time before disappearing from view.

**[TBC]**


	25. Chapter 25

**Twenty-Five**

The boy was lucky. When the dogs came, he was not in his hide. The leaves had not been enough to last him long. Hunger had forced him back into the open, and this time he had gone further than before. So, when the dogs came later that night, rushing through the woods - hungry as lions, vicious as hyenas - Samuel was in sight of the road. And he ran.

Looking back over his shoulder, he could see three of them. In the darkness, with their teeth bared and their hackles raised, they looked like demons, and they moved as easily as ghosts. Samuel sobbed his fear silently as he ran. They were faster than him, he knew that, but where there were cars, there were people. And where there were people, there was hope. Not of help - Samuel Kayembe had seen enough in his short life to know that the people of the world were not interested in helping boys like him. But, as terrifying as the dogs were, they were still dogs. And they were as famished as he was. If the men that followed them did not want to be hunted themselves, they would have to call them off or risk them attacking someone other than their quarry.

Samuel almost tripped on the uneven ground, his battered, beaten, bare feet cut and bloodied by the underbrush. His heart crashed against his rib cage, his blood rushed in his ears. The road was near, but the dogs were nearer. Even in their starvation, they were strong, and they were desperate. They caught up to him like a bird on the breeze, too swift for him to escape. He stumbled and felt the lash of teeth against one ankle. Pain seared his leg and he almost toppled beneath the dog's claws. But the road was so close...

He spurred himself on, adrenaline flooding his muscles, blocking out the pain. He reached the embankment to a chorus of shouts that rose above the cacophony of dogs. He turned to see the men, chasing their quarry. He was reminded suddenly of Josue, his brother, whom he should have kept safe...

His foot caught in a tuft if grass and he fell, bumping down the cutting, slamming onto the tarmac below. The dogs came after him in a stream of teeth, no hesitation, no pause. There was the frantic honking of horns, the screech of brakes. Lights blinded him as he scrambled to get up, body scraped, now, by hard ground as well as teeth. There was a thump and a howl, but he did not look back.

Samuel ran on.

**[TBC]**


	26. Chapter 26

**Twenty-Six**

Ash hadn't lied when he said he had to get up early, but he didn't go straight to work. Instead, the early morning mist found him at Lydie's grave. He had a long-term understanding with the cemetery gatekeeper, who knew him of old and was used to the odd hours kept by the detective. The grizzled old man unlocked the gate with a cordial nod, but no conversation. Ash drove straight to his usual spot – the place that meant he had the furthest to walk to her graveside. He did this always, even when the carpark was completely empty. The longer walk had become a ritual, the portion of denial he did not allow himself elsewhere. The further he had to walk, the more amount of time he could pretend, even now, that her death was not real. It was an absurdity he hated in himself, and yet could not abandon.

Lydie's grave was always tidy, bordering on sparse. Saul was rarely away long enough for weeds to take hold, and he didn't go in for mementoes. He paid the groundsman to remove the flowers he brought the moment the petals started to drop, and arrived with a fresh bunch every week. White roses, always. They had been her favourite.

Saul did not talk to his dead wife anywhere, least of all at her graveside. He was not of the opinion that, should there be a consciousness that persisted after death, the deceased would choose the place of their burial as their stomping ground. And yet, as he sat, contemplating her name, engraved as it was among the chiselled details of her gravestone, he could not deny the reason for this particular visit. Although he would not say it aloud, he wanted his wife to know, somehow, that she was still loved. That despite the events of the previous evening, she had not been, would never be, forgotten.

There was guilt, inevitably – even more than usual. He'd known it would settle on his shoulders, even as he'd stood there, at the bottom of those steps, looking up at Nikki. But it hadn't been enough to counteract the thread he felt pulling him toward her. It hadn't been enough not to make his heart feel glad that she had responded to that brief kiss. He had surprised her, he knew, but nowhere near as much as he had surprised himself.

And so, as he sat, at his wife's grave, Saul said another silent apology. Because he had intended to keep his vow, he had. He had thought that until the end of his days, there would be no one who could change his mind about what his life should be, and to what it should be dedicated. And though he would not, could not, leave behind his guilt, he couldn't pretend that something else was not happening. He couldn't pretend that unexpectedly, his heart had been partitioned. That suddenly, there was a future, and there was a face – a living one – he wanted to be included in it.

The ringing of his phone pulled him out of his silent contemplation. He let it ring for a moment, before standing and turning away. Around him, the neatly blunted blades of grass glistened with dew as another grey day grew older.

"Ash," he answered, as he started back to the car.

"_Guv, it's me,"_ came Salter's voice. He sounded scratchy, as if he was on the hands-free in his car. _"Where are you?"_

"At the cemetery."

There was a pause. _"Sorry."_

"It's fine. I'm leaving now. What is it?"

"_We think we've found the boy. Samuel."_

Saul paused. "Dead?"

"_Nope. Some restaurant owner's got him barricaded in their kitchen. He came running in just as they were cleaning down, they say, grabbed a knife and went berserk. The local plod worked out who he was – they've just called us. They say there's blood everywhere, and they think it's all his. But no one's willing to go near him. I'm on my way there now."_

"Where? Where is he?"

"_Leytonstone. A Turkish place called Ocakbasi."_

Saul started to run.

**[TBC]**


	27. Chapter 27

**Twenty-seven**

Harry watched Nikki from across the desk. She looked serene this morning. Her hair was down. He liked it.

"What?" she asked, suddenly.

"What do you mean, 'What'?"

Nikki looked up from the file she'd been studying. "You've been staring at me all morning."

"I have not."

"You _have_. Have I got something on my face?"

He tipped his head on one side and pretended to study her left cheek. She stared back for a moment, before lifting a hand to brush away an imaginary mark.

"What is it?"

He laughed. "There's nothing there, really. I promise."

"God. You must have been an insufferable child."

"I was not. I was even more adorable than I am now, if you can believe it."

She grinned. "Impossible."

"It's true. Whereas you, on the other hand - I bet you were awful. ratty hair, eating with your mouth full…"

Nikki nodded, playing along. "...perpetually dirty nose…"

"Ah. There you go. Proof that some things never change."

She laughed, a sound that always made him smile. Harry realised he hadn't heard Nikki laugh since the start of the torso case. He stood up and moved around to her desk, leaning against it.

"You seem different this morning."

She looked away. "Do I?"

He nodded. "Happier. It's a good thing. You must tell me your secret, old woman."

She raised an eyebrow. "Old?"

"In the wise and figurative sense, obviously. Not the wizened crone sense. Although, now I think about it…"

Nikki punched his arm.

"I'm serious," he laughed. "You look happy this morning. It's good."

She paused for a moment, as if deciding whether to say what she was thinking. "You said to me once that there were things you wanted out of life that you had no idea how to get."

"Sounds a bit deep for me, but if you say so." Actually, Harry remembered the conversation very well. It had been conducted in the surreal post-bomb calm of the school massacre, and he'd been thinking about her, really, but hadn't been able to bring himself to say so. Which illustrated his point perfectly.

Nikki smiled, shaking her head. "I've been the same," she said. "And do you know what? I think I've realised that there isn't one, single thing that will make life perfect. Life's never like that, is it? But people think it is, and that's how you end up wasting what you have. But if you decide that all you want is simply... _more_... and you're open to whatever comes along… If you don't saddle yourself with a perfect ideal if what you want… There are wonderful things out there. Does that make sense?"

Harry looked down at her, and as he did so he was struck by the sensation of falling. Not of falling himself, but of something falling away from him, very fast - so fast, in fact, that it was almost beyond reach already. And it was something so monumental that it's removal shifted his entire baseline, and suddenly, impossibly, irrevocably, he was aware of something so huge, so important, that he couldn't believe that he hadn't properly grasped the meaning of it until now. Until _now_, when it was already almost gone. _Dinner,_ he thought. _Not just drinks. Dinner. And then-_

He cleared his throat, grasping for solid ground. "Not sure. You aren't about to tell me you're moonlighting as a pole dancer, are you?

Nikki laughed, shaking her head and standing up. She pulled him into a hug. He wrapped his arms around her, smelling the lemon and vanilla scent of her hair and feeling his heart turn cold.

"Harry Cunningham," she said, against his neck, "I do believe you were born without a romantic bone in your body."

"Oh, I was born with one," he said. "But I was tricked out of it by a wise old woman."

Nikki pulled back, opening her mouth to say something, but her mobile rang. He let her go and she reached for it, smiling slightly as she saw who was calling. Nikki turned away from him as she answered it.

"Hi," she said, softly, with the smile still in her voice. And then, after a moment, "That's fantastic! And he's all right?" she looked up at Harry with a brilliant smile. Then, in a second, the smile was gone. "What? Oh, God - are you all right? Are they deep?" she listened for another moment. "OK. All right. I'm on my way."

Nikki hung up the phone with a frown.

"Everything ok?"

"They've found Samuel Kayembe. He's alive."

"That's fantastic!"

Nikki reached for her coat. "Yes, although he's in a bit of a state, apparently. He got into a restaurant kitchen and grabbed a carving knife. No one would go near him but Saul. He held Samuel until they could sedate him, but the boy managed to slash him a few times."

Harry frowned. "Is he OK?"

Nikki nodded. "He says he's being stitched up at Whipps Cross now. Samuel's sleeping. Saul wants me to go and look him over, see if there's anything that can help us before they clean him up properly. Can you let Leo know?"

The feeling of her pressed against him lingered long after Nikki had left. Harry rubbed a hand over his face and poured fresh coffee, but still there was something in him that would not be warmed. He wondered how it was possible that this could have happened so quickly – that he could have lost something that, until a week ago, was so intrinsic to his life that he thought it normal to push it away.

His phone rang. Somewhere on the outskirts of London, another life had ended.

**[TBC]**


	28. Chapter 28

**Twenty-eight**

Salter sipped his tea as he watched Nikki bag Samuel Kayembe's clothes. The boy looked like an angel now – clean, stitched up, and tucked between crisp white sheets. Asleep, instead of fighting like a cornered cat.

"Butter wouldn't melt, eh?" he said. "You should have seen him a couple of hours ago."

The pathologist smiled. "At least he's safe now."

"Well, relatively speaking, anyway." At her frown, Reuben nodded toward the corridor. "This isn't the most secure place he could be, believe me. The guv's got a couple of constables on the door, but given what this kid's got inside him, and the sort of people they belong to, I'd rather have him far safer. Even if that means he's in a cell."

He watched as she straightened up and surveyed the patient. "Well, he's got a nasty bite that could be infected and plenty of cuts and bruises that need keeping an eye on, not to mention opening him up to take those stones out. It's going to be a few days before he's well enough to be released. What will happen when he is? You can't actually put him in a cell."

Salter shrugged. "Social Services are working that one out at the moment. We'll need to interview him, but it'll be under supervision and probably at a victim support unit. If they can work out who's supposed to pay for him, of course."

The door opened and Ash appeared. His shirt and jacket had been ruined as he'd struggled to subdue Samuel, and he'd since stripped down to his t-shirt. Both of his bare forearms were thickly bandaged. Ash's gaze went straight to Nikki, and Salter didn't miss the look that passed between them. It was warm, but also hesitant. It was enough to convince him that something had happened the night before. He turned away, glancing up at the television screen, where News 24 was mutely scrolling out its latest news bulletin.

"Saul," he heard Nikki say. "Your arms…"

"It's fine. Really, they're not that bad. The poor kid was just scared. How – how are you today?"

There was a pause, which was as pregnant as a pause could possibly be. Reuben wondered how they were standing. Close together? Hands touching? He forced himself to read the ticker-tape news stories. There had been another security alert at Heathrow. It was apparently so bad that flights had been grounded at every airport in the South East. He frowned. That meant a lot of irate people stuck in very long queues. Made him glad he wasn't in private security…

"Fine," Reuben heard Nikki answer. "Glad you're OK. And Samuel."

"I can't believe we found him alive. I really thought he'd be dead. Thanks for coming to look at him. I thought it might be worthwhile. Have you found anything?"

Now that they were back on ground they were all comfortable with, Salter thought it safe to turn around. They were standing close together, looking at Samuel. Nikki shook her head.

"There's not much I can tell you straight away, I'm afraid, other than that I'm sure the wound on his ankle is a dog bite, and it looks as if there are hairs on his clothing that could be canine. The lacerations under his ribs haven't been re-opened. You already know that the X-Rays taken by the hospital confirm he was another mule. Other than that…" she held up the evidence bag. "These stains could be blood, but they could be a hundred other things, too. We know he's been sleeping rough."

Saul nodded. "OK. Well, we have some canvassing to do here."

Doctor Alexander gathered up her things. "I'll get these back to the lab and start work on them straight away. I should have the full results of my tests on the trainers by later today, too."

"Great… that's great."

Salter watched as Ash watched her leave. The door had shut before the DI moved. He went after her, calling her name as he opened the door. Salter wondered if they realised the top half of the door was glass, and he could therefore see their conversation, if not hear it. He tried to turn his concentration back to the silent television screen, but frankly, they were more fascinating. Whatever it was they said to each other, they both ended the encounter smiling. Reuben took another mouthful of his now tepid tea as Ash came back into the room.

"What?" Ash asked, defensively.

"I didn't say anything."

"Well, don't."

Salter nodded. "OK. So, what's next?"

"Dinner. At her place."

Reuben raised his eyebrows. "Sorry?"

Ash blinked, and then looked at him. "I thought you were asking-" He stopped. "Never mind. Get your coat. We've got doors to knock on."

Salter dropped his empty paper cup into the bin. "So she can cook, too, can she?"

"Reuben…"

"Talk about multi-talented, eh?"

"Shut up."

"I'm just saying…"

"Shut _up_."

**[TBC]**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** I've been really disappointed at myself for the last couple of chapters. I promise I will try to get back up to par from here on. I'm writing fast because I've got something about to hit in RL which will mean I won't have time to write FF for a couple of months and I don't want to leave this hanging! Thanks if you are still reading – I really hope you're not bored! X

**Twenty-nine**

Nikki started work on Samuel's t-shirt and shorts as soon as she returned to the Lyell Centre. They were old, and had probably already been hand-me-downs when the boy was first given them. Several nights sleeping rough in the dank environs of Epping Forest had probably damaged anything useful, but until the boy could talk – always assuming he would be willing to – his clothes were their best chance of piecing together what had happened to him since his escape. Nikki found herself re-energised - finding Samuel alive and essentially well had been a boost. If he had survived, it was possible that the last two boys were still alive, too, and anything that could help locate them would be worth its weight in gold.

There were several deep, rust-coloured stains engrained in the fabric of both garments that Nikki thought could be blood. She cut out careful segments, brushing any surface detritus into a separate dish for later examination and then sealing each portion of cloth into separate bags for individual testing. There were coarse, short, bi-coloured hairs caught in the stitching at the hem of the shorts, and Nikki was pulling these free when a lab tech interrupted, bringing the definitive results of what they'd recovered from Samuel's discarded trainers.

Most of what the report told her had been expected. There was oak leaf mulch, traces of shale, splintered soft wood – all common substances found in the vicinity of where the shoes had been found, and all consistent with what Nikki would have expected to find in a running shoe used on wet, forested ground. But the tests had also found something else – beneath the latest layer of grime was a substance she didn't recognise as being native to the eastern edge of the metropolis.

Nikki was still puzzling over her discovery when the phone rang. She picked it up, eyes still studying the sheet of results in her hand.

"Nikki Alexander."

"It's Harry. I'm in the cutting room. Can you come down? I think I've got something you'll want to see."

-X-

Harry looked up as Nikki came in. She'd donned scrubs and tied her hair back. He waved her over to the body the police had fished out of the water at the Isle of Dogs earlier in the day.

"How's the boy?"

"Sedated," she told him. "I'm going over his clothes now. Not sure they'll give us anything. What have you got?"

Harry indicated the corpse. "This guy was found a few hours ago – another Thames body. Didn't think it had anything to do with yours at first: as you can see, his throat's been cut and his limbs are all intact. But look at this…"

He lifted the dead man's left arm, turning it slightly for Nikki to see as she leaned forward. She stretched the skin with her fingers for a moment before moving back again.

"Look familiar?"

"Oh yes," she said. "That's the dotted tattoo we could see on one of the boys. Samuel's got it, too."

Harry laid the arm back on the slab. "I suspect this is not a coincidence, don't you?"

She nodded. "What else have you found?"

"We've taken a few samples from his clothing. No definitive results as yet, obviously, but his trousers yielded a few hairs that could be canine."

"Are they here?"

Harry reached for a bag similar to the one Nikki had just been using upstairs. "There we go."

Nikki held them up to the light for a moment, and then nodded. "I've found similar hairs on Samuel's clothing. He's got a bite on his leg that looks as if it's from a dog."

Harry crossed his arms. "A comparison test will tell us if they're from the same dog. I'm willing to bet they are."

Nikki frowned. "So what happened?"

Harry nodded at the body. "For my money, he was sent to retrieve Samuel and failed, probably after being held responsible for letting him get away in the first place."

"An execution, then? It makes sense, I suppose. I wonder why they didn't remove the arm with the tattoo."

He shrugged. "He's been dead four hours, tops – he must have been found very soon after he was killed. In which case, they may have been interrupted."

Harry watched as Nikki nodded, her brow still furrowed. "That would fit in with the time that Samuel entered the restaurant. No wonder he was panicked."

Harry moved to the tray containing the dead man's clothes. "There's something else. I haven't checked this out yet, but look at his shoes." He held up a trainer. "He's a big chap. His feet are outsize. Those tracks we recorded at the warehouse, site of the first murder…"

Nikki reached out to take the shoe. "The tread looks similar, doesn't it?"

"Certainly does. So that would link him to both murders. Maybe we're actually getting somewhere."

Nikki's attention was still fixed on the trainer. She'd turned it over and was examining the dirty tread. Moving to the metal bench that ran around the outer wall of the cutting room, she took a scalpel and a dish and scraped off a thick later of dirt.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked, as Nikki probed down to the trainer's rubber sole.

"I've just had the results back for Samuel's trainers," she explained. "Mostly what you'd expect. Except for a deposit of chalk."

"Chalk?"

She nodded and then straightened, swapping the scalpel for tweezers and holding up a white substance. "That's right. And look at this."

Harry leaned closer. "I'm no expert, but that looks like chalk to me."

"You know where chalk used to be mined in the UK?"

Harry followed where she was leading. "The south coast, all along the North Downs. Lewes, Dover, Thanet…"

"…Folkestone. But none of them are in operation any more."

He shrugged. "Let the police figure it out. It's more than we've been able to give them so far."

Nikki smiled. "True."

Harry looked back over his shoulder. "I've got to carry on with this. Do you want to stick around?"

She shook her head. "Thanks, but I want to get on with the clothing tests. I'll get these processed, shall I?" Nikki pointed to the hair and soil samples.

"Go for it. I'll get my notes to you on the body as soon as I can."

"Thanks, Harry."

"Do you fancy a drink tonight?"

Nikki glanced up with a smile. "I can't, I'm sorry. Plans. Can I take a rain check?"

He smiled, trying to ignore the sinking of his heart. "Sure. I'll drag Leo out instead. Feels like I haven't seen him for most of the week."

Harry watched as she left. The door swing shut behind her, but it was a second or two before he moved.

**[TBC]**


	30. Chapter 30

**Thirty**

Harry had already bought Leo a pint when he arrived, a little late, at their usual table. The professor looked around, seeing only two drinks.

"No Nikki tonight?" He asked, as he sat down opposite his younger colleague.

Harry looked at him over the rim of his glass as he took a mouthful of his beer. "She has plans, apparently."

Leo raised an eyebrow as the two men clinked glasses. "Oh?"

"With DI Ash, I think," Harry said, scrubbing a fingernail at the table.

"You should have dragged her out," Leo told him. "That woman works too hard."

Harry offered a lop-sided smile. "She does, yes, but I don't think you need to worry about that tonight. I… don't think they'll be working."

Leo paused. "Oh. I see." He thought back to his brief conversation with Nikki a few days previously. "Maybe that's what she was talking about," he thought, aloud.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Sorry?'

He shook his head. "Nothing. I was just a little worried about her the other day." Leo remembered what she had said. _"__If you're not happy, you have to look for something that will change that, don't you?"_ He glanced back to Harry, who seemed to be far from happy himself. "Perhaps she's taken a step toward the life she seemed to think she didn't have."

Harry took another mouthful of his pint. "She said that? I thought she was just interested in indulging some kind of Beauty and the Beast fantasy."

Leo was surprised, both by Harry's comment and by the bitterness he failed to mask. "Careful," he warned. "That's two colleagues you're talking about. I thought you said Ash seemed like a good man."

Harry shrugged. "He does. A fine, upstanding officer."

"So?" he asked. "What's the problem?"

"There's no problem."

"Looks like there might be from where I'm sitting."

Harry glanced toward the bar, eyes dark. "It's been a tough week, that's all."

"I don't think that's it at all. Is it?"

Harry ignored the question, swallowing the last of his pint, instead. "Do you want another? Because I do."

"You know what I think?" Leo asked. "That your mood has nothing to do with how tough the week has been."

Harry sighed. "Leo…"

"What I don't understand is, why this is different."

Harry looked at him with a frown, before looking back down into his glass. "What are you talking about?"

Leo met his eye. "Nikki's seen other men since she's worked at the Lyell. You know that. It hasn't bothered you before. Or at least, you haven't let it show. So what's different about Ash?"

"I thought discussing work colleagues' private lives was inappropriate?" Harry asked, flicking a finger in his direction. "Your words."

"We're not at work now. This is just two friends, having a drink. And one of them clearly has a problem. So, come on. What is it?" He watched as Harry toyed with his glass. "Harry, I'd like to think I know you well enough to say it's not because of his colour."

Harry looked up, shocked. "What? God! Leo – of course not."

Leo shrugged. "What, then? You've said yourself, he's a good man and outstanding officer. I would have thought he's perfect for her."

Harry nodded. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure he is."

Leo sat back, casting his eye over his friend. He thought about leaving it there. But 'it' had been left there for too many years. "And that, right there, is the problem. Isn't it?"

The younger man frowned. "What?"

"The men Nikki's seen before – they've all been shallow. Temporary, even. But Saul Ash..."

Harry stood up, abruptly. "I think that's enough psychoanalysis for one day, don't you, Leo? Let's stick to what were good at – cutting up dead bodies. I'm going to the bar, what do you want?"

Leo sighed. "What happened between you two, Harry?" he asked. "There was a time, a few years ago, when I thought you two would..." he shrugged. "What happened?"

Harry stared at the bustling bar. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing ever happened."

"Why not?"

Harry turned to look at him, blinking. "What can that possibly matter now?"

Leo spread his hands. "I don't think you need me to tell you that," he said. "If you want her, you'd better do something, and quickly."

Harry shook his head. "You're barking up the wrong tree, Leo," he said. "Nikki and I are friends. That's all. It's what we've always been. I've changed my mind about another drink. See you tomorrow."

He was gone before Leo could reply.

**[TBC]**


	31. Chapter 31

**Thirty-One**

"What I don't understand," said Nikki, as Saul helped her clear away after their meal, "is what they're doing with the diamonds once they've got them here."

Saul shrugged. "They become a legitimate part of the trade. Once they're here, there's no way to distinguish between diamonds taken from legitimate mines and those from illegal ones. Is there?"

"Not if they have the same chemical composition, no." She held up the wine bottle. "Another?"

Saul smiled. "Why not?"

"But," Nikki went on, as he watched her pour them another glass and gesture toward her sofa, "even if that's the case, someone would notice if the UK market was suddenly flooded with high quality diamonds, surely. I mean, how many stones did they pull out of Samuel today?"

"Sixty-five," he told her, enjoying the sight of her in full-flow. She sat beside him and curled her feet up beneath her, apparently completely relaxed in his company. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had an evening like this. It would have been before Lydie... The thought of his wife flushed him with guilt. He tried to cover it, but Nikki's sharp eyes noticed.

"Saul?" she asked. "Are you all right?"

He smiled at her, trying to dispel the ghosts that haunted him. "I'm fine, I'm sorry. Just a little tired."

Nikki looked abashed. "Sorry. Once I get started, I can't stop. You don't want to talk about the case on your night off."

Saul reached out, lightly touching the back of her hand. "That's not it at all. And frankly, I could listen to you talk all night. Most police officers are never really off duty, anyway. You can't be, not on a case like this. I keep waking up thinking about the boys who are still missing."

Nikki turned her hand over and squeezed his. Saul shifted toward her a little, the pair of them settling closer together. "What's the latest?" she asked. "Any new leads?"

"Well, we found the connection between the two Tanner companies," he said. "They were founded by two brothers, almost sixty years ago, out of an inheritance. Tanner Construction was sold out of the family a decade ago."

"Another dead end, then?"

"Maybe. Maybe not - I'm still hoping something might pop up tomorrow, when we go down to check out their depot. If your chalk samples are a match, then that can't possibly be insignificant."

"Thanks for asking me along," she said. "Most police officers aren't so open."

He smiled. "Most pathologists aren't such a joy to be around."

"Salter won't mind?"

"Reuben? No. He likes you. Thinks you're exactly what I need."

She tipped her head to one side. "Oh?"

Saul watched the smile on her face. "I'm beginning to think he's right."

He was surprised when Nikki leaned toward him, but he pulled her close without hesitation. Their kiss was different this time. There was more heat, more insistence. When they broke apart, he held her face in his hands.

"You fascinate me," he said. "There's something about you I can't ignore. It's not just how beautiful you are. Every day you do things that would make most men shudder. And yet there is still something so terrifyingly fragile about you. It brings out the caveman in me."

She pulled his hands away and held them, laughing. "What – I make you want to pick up a spear and hunt?"

"No," Saul said, softly. "It makes me want to protect you. And that scares me."

"Why?"

He let go of her hands and picked up his wine glass instead, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. I'm sure you'll tell me you don't need looking after, anyway."

Nikki smiled. "You're right. You don't need to worry about me. But… it's still nice to know there's someone out there that wants to, all the same."

He smiled back. "I can't believe I'm the only one."

Nikki glanced away, and for a fraction of a second there was something sad and faraway in her eyes. Then she looked back at him, and her expression was warm. "I have male friends, ones that I'm very close to. But that's not the same. How about you?" She looked down at her hands. "I… heard about your wife. I'm sorry."

Saul's heart jolted into his throat. He swallowed it, forcing a smile. "Thank you. I… still miss her. I think I always will."

"Do you mind talking about her?"

He looked away. "No, I just – don't do it very often. And this…" he squeezed her hand. "This is… difficult."

Nikki shook her head. "I'm sorry. Forget I asked, it was thoughtless."

"No," Saul said, quickly. "No, it's not. In fact, maybe it's a good idea to talk about it now. So early, I mean."

She looked up at him, meeting his eye with the same strength of character she used to face the very worst aspects of her job. He felt his heart swell. He wondered if he could stay here, like this, forever. Teetering on the edge of a moment, before things became good, or bad, or indifferent…

He cleared his throat. "It's difficult because it was my fault. Her killing herself. It was my fault."

"That can't be true. You must know that, really."

He looked at her sadly. "It is true, Nikki. And if… if this is going to go anywhere. Us, I mean – if anything it to come of it… I suppose it's just as well that you know now."

She shook her head. "People blame themselves for things that happen to the people they love. But…"

"Nikki," he interrupted, softly. "It was."

"Tell me," she said. "Tell me why you think it was."

"You'll think less of me. But maybe that would be a good thing."

Nikki shook her head. "I can't see how I would think less of you. It's easy to see that you're a good man."

He laughed, grimly. "It's funny how many times people say that."

She clasped his hands in hers. "Tell me," she ordered, quietly. "Tell me all of it."

Saul took another mouthful of wine. After a moment, he said, "Lydie was amazing. She was so intelligent, so… full of ideas. She wanted to help people. I met her at a conference on inner city poverty – she was on the board of a charity that wanted to encourage the police to help the most vulnerable children on some of the worst estates in the UK. We hit it off straight away. She was older than me, but we didn't notice. Those first six months… it was like watching a perpetual firecracker. But then – then she hit a downward curve."

Nikki frowned. "A downward curve?"

"Lydie was bi-polar. Most of the time she was fine, but she would have these awful slumps… Anyway, I tried to help her as best I could. And us being together seemed to make her happier. More on an even keel. I loved her. I wasn't going to leave her just because she was ill. So we got married. And we were happy. _Really_ happy, for years. She was dealing with her illness."

"It never goes away though, does it?"

He shook his head. "No. No, it's doesn't. We started thinking about having children. But… it just didn't seem to happen. She wanted to have IVF, but I could already see that the expectation she was putting on herself was damaging. So I said no. I said, we'd just keep trying. That if it was going to happen, it would, and we should just stop worrying. But she started to blame her medication."

"Her anti-depressants?" Nikki shrugged. "She may not have been way off the mark, there. She would have had to stop taking them when she fell pregnant, anyway."

Saul nodded. "I know. But I was scared of what would happen – if she came off them, coupled with the stress. And I was beginning to think that having a child wasn't the best idea, anyway. But she stopped taking them, without telling me. Things got worse and worse, and – I didn't know how best to handle it, so I just worked more and more."

Nikki's face was sympathetic. "I still don't see how this makes what happened your fault."

He smiled, sadly. "I haven't got that far yet. One morning we had a massive row. I was in the middle of a really difficult case. I should have stayed at home, but I didn't. I went to work, and then after work, I didn't go home. I went out drinking with my team, instead. And I… went home with one of my female officers. I'm not going to say I was drunk. There was no excuse. I cheated on my sick wife that night. And at that point, it was the guiltiest I'd ever felt. I had betrayed everything I believed in, everything I loved. Everything that mattered."

Saul paused, watching for Nikki's reaction. She didn't look away. "And Lydie found out?"

"Of course she did. I've never been a very good liar, but Lydie – Lydie could always see right through me. She knew me too well. She knew something was wrong. And I should have lied to her… but I couldn't. She went into a deep depression – the deepest I'd ever seen in her. I tried everything I could to bring her out of it, but the sight of me just made it worse. I should have had her sectioned, but I couldn't bear to. And six months later, she killed herself."

Silence reigned. From the kitchen came the sound of a dripping tap. Saul focused on it, the tinny ring of water against metal.

"Not such a good man after all, am I?" He asked, softly.

Nikki shook her head. "Saul…"

"I wasn't worth that," he said. "Her wasting her life like that, because of something I did that meant nothing. _Nothing_. When we married, I promised myself I would keep her safe. And somehow, somewhere along the line, I managed to forget that. I swore to myself I'd never let myself love anyone else after that. That I'd… I don't know, be faithful to her, even after death. Stupid, maybe, but how else could I make up for what I did? And I've never had any trouble keeping my promise. Never, not in five years. Until I met you. And now… now I'm finding it hard to remember why I can't fall in love with you. Actually, I think it's already too late. I think it was too late the moment I saw your hands shaking when you had to look at that child's body."

**[TBC]**


	32. Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

The Seller's face was a scene of controlled fury. His two remaining men stood on the other side of the desk, hiding their nervousness. Their shoes were still muddy from the forest, and still wet from the river. With the throat they had slit, they had placed themselves on the front line, and they still had not retrieved what they had been sent to seek. But at least, for now, the Seller's attentions were elsewhere.

"That is unacceptable," he said, into his mobile phone. His voice was a susurration, soft against the silence in the room. "This trade is already late. The cargo must be taken. Today. Your transport issues are not my concern."

He listened for a moment, and then removed the phone from his ear. He placed it on the desk with slow, careful movements. His men were aware that he was forcing himself not to hurl it at the plate-glass window behind him.

"They will not take the cargo while they cannot fly," he said. "And they say that even when the airports are reopened, scrutiny will be too great. They want us to extricate the shipment."

The men relaxed, just a fraction. Here was an assignment. Here was a sign that they would not end up face-down in a ditch. This time, at any rate. But the Seller turned away, staring across the dreary concrete landscape.

"This we will not do," he told them. "We have already drawn too much attention. If the Saudi's want the stones, they take them in their skin pouches. In Saud, they can do what they want, with no danger. Why should we take more chances?"

His men were aware that this was a rhetorical question. They looked at each other, and then down at their feet. They were men that scared people, but before the Seller, they themselves became children.

The Seller picked up his phone again, pressing one number. When it was answered, he spoke without hesitation. "Tell your wife to do her job," he ordered, voice still soft. "I do not care how. You are costing me money. You are costing me time. And I am not a patient man."

He hung up.

**[TBC]**


	33. Chapter 33

**Thirty-Three**

Tanner Construction was a typical builders' yard – dirty with the comings and goings of heavy vehicles and heavier men. Salter stepped out of the car and looked down at his feet. The tracks that led through the wire fence and into the noisy depot were slick with rain and dirt. But beneath, the ground was recognisably white.

He heard footsteps from around the other side of the car. Nikki Alexander stepped up beside him and followed the line of his gaze.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Well, we already know it's chalk," she said. "But I'll have to take a proper sample and run it through the analyser microscope to determine a match." She nodded beyond the fence. "Best to take it from in there."

They headed through the gates and toward the two-storey Portacabin units that blocked the rest of the yard from view. Behind them rose the cliff, a mottled whitish mass with a large cleft hewn out of it. Once this had been a thriving mine, but now there were tufts of tough grass sprouting in the scraped wall of limestone.

"Funny, isn't it?" Salter observed. "How an industry can just disappear. Look at this place – nothing but a parking place for lorries, now. But once that whole cliff face would have been work enough for a hundred men."

Nikki smiled. "That's progress for you, Detective. Can't get in its way."

Reuben glanced at her. "Sorry the DI didn't make it after all," he said. "When he heard that Samuel was ready to talk, he didn't want to waste any time."

She smiled again. "It's fine. He called me this morning to let me know. Thanks for still letting me come along."

Salter shrugged. "Happy to."

He pushed open the door marked 'Reception' and held it for her. The desk that dominated the small room was empty, though there was a flat-screen television burbling softly in the corner. It was tuned to News24. An MP was standing on the green outside Parliament, apparently annoyed about the length of time that British airports had been closed because of terrorist threat.

"…the financial impact of these closures is appalling," the MP was saying. "Our economy is already facing crippling financial difficulties in this downturn. I question whether such stringent measures are necessary. And if they are, then why is that the case? Surely our security services…"

Salter shook his head "What if they re-opened now and someone brought a plane down over London?" he muttered, to no one in particular. "I bet she'd change her tune then."

"What gets me is, it's not even any of her bloody beeswax," stated a cheerful voice, behind them. Salter turned to see a large woman in royal blue bustling through the door from the adjoining cabin. "That's our MP, that is. Millicent Davey. God only knows why she's sticking her oar in about this airport business. She should be advocating shipping from bloody Folkstone, not air travel from somewhere else! Our airport can't handle more than private flights, and who cares if those rich bastards are grounded for a few days? Rich bastards and illegal immigrants, that's all government gives a shit about nowadays, eh? It's we local companies that really need the help." The woman dropped a pile of files on the desk and beamed at them. "Anyway, never mind me. Sorry to keep you waiting. How can I help?"

Salter moved toward her and held out his badge. The woman retained her smile, but her eyes turned glassy.

"Ah," she said, "Yes, I heard you'd be coming."

"We'll try not to take up much of your time," Reuben told her, with a fake smile of his own, "but a quick tour would be great."

Nikki indicated the glossy brochures stacked in neat piles on the desk. "Do you mind if I take some of these?"

**[TBC]**


	34. Chapter 34

**Thirty-Four**

The shower was hot. Harry stayed in it longer than he needed, feeling the water crash against the bunched muscles in his neck and shoulders. He shut his eyes, breathing in the steam. He hadn't slept well the night before. Leo's words had circled in his mind, over and over. _If you want her, you'd better do something. And quickly. _ He'd said it so matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple. As if it were obvious, when it wasn't, least of all to Harry. Nikki _was_ a friend. And through all his extensive experiences with women, Harry hadn't yet found one that he could take to bed and still talk to the way he talked to Nikki, every day.

And yet… the thought of her with someone else… _permanently_? The idea that somehow they could carry on, as they always had, were she to go home every night to someone else… If he was no longer the first person she came to when she needed someone, if she was no longer interested in – or able to be - as much a part of his life as she was at the moment… What would that mean for them? So much of their relationship relied on all of those things, but all of those things only existed because in all the years that they had worked together, neither of them had been with a partner longer than it took to discover the inevitable cracks. Harry realised, now, that in six years, he hadn't taken any relationship seriously. Because every time he'd been in one, or contemplated one, of any duration, he had immediately been looking beyond it, without ever acknowledging why. And maybe, somewhere along the line, again without acknowledging it, he'd assumed the same of her. She'd told him she'd once wanted an ideal. What if the ideal had been him, and he'd been too stupid to realise it?

But what if it wasn't about him, at all? What if she'd never thought of him like that? She'd never made a move, after all. That had all been down to him.

Harry turned off the water, squeezing his fingers into his eyes. What was he supposed to do, anyway? Suddenly declare his undying love? How did anyone ever really know what that felt like? How could you ever _know_?

He towelled himself and pulled on a pair of scrub bottoms before heading for his locker, rubbing his hair dry as he went.

"Harry…"

He stopped, looking up to see Nikki sitting on the bench.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't think anyone was in here. And I thought you were down in Folkestone?"

"Got back a little while ago. I was waiting for you."

He frowned, taking in the slightly pensive look on her face. "Everything OK?"

She nodded. "Fine. I just…" Nikki trailed off.

Harry dropped onto the bench beside her, careful not to sit too close. "Come on. Something's up. What is it?"

She looked down at her hands. "Have you ever fallen in love really quickly?"

He blinked. That wasn't what he'd been expecting, and suddenly Harry wished he hadn't asked. He tried to make light of it. "From this question, do I deduce that things are going well with DI Ash?"

Nikki looked up at him with a faint smile. "They are. Really well."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why do I detect a 'but'?"

She sighed. "It's not a but, really. It's just… last night he told me he was in love with me. And he can't be, so soon. Can he?"

Harry felt something cold slide down his spine. He froze for a moment, and then stood up, going to his locker. "Why not? You're stunningly gorgeous, ridiculously intelligent, you've got a heart of gold the size of Ireland…"

"Don't tease, Harry, please. I'm serious."

"…plus, you have a really, _really_ nice flat. Of course he's in love with you. I'm amazed he didn't realise it sooner. Must be an idiot. You'd better dump him."

She sighed. "_Harry_…"

Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes. "You really need to get more girlfriends, Nikki. I'm not sure I'm qualified to be having this conversation. What's next? Do I get to braid your hair and make a friendship bracelet?"

"None of them have met him. You have, and I need to talk about this. Please? Try not to be an idiot, Harry, just for once? I need you."

He laughed slightly, and tried to inject some mirth into it. After a moment, he turned around and said, "Surely what's more important right now is how _you _feel? Do you love him?"

"I – I don't know," she stuttered, staring up at him. "I think I could."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "That's not exactly what a guy dreams of hearing from the girl he loves, is it? I'm sure you _could_ love a lot of men, given the right circumstances. Me, for example. I've been told I'm quite loveable."

She stood up, beginning to pace, and Harry realised that Nikki was genuinely agitated. "He's such a good man. And… and I like him. I really do."

"But?"

Nikki's pacing brought her close enough to look him in the eye. "All I know about him, really, is that he has tragedy in his past. And I don't want to hurt him. And how do you know? How do you ever really _know_?"

Harry stared down at her. "It's a difficult one."

"Yes. Yes, it is. Maybe I _am_ in love with him. Maybe it's just that I've spent so long in this stupid little dreamworld of mine that I can't tell. And maybe, even if I'm not, I should be. Maybe I should just… _decide _to love him."

"Is that how it works?"

"Why not? I want a life, Harry – I want a future, a – a family. Someone who loves me. Normal things like that. Things that, for some reason, are passing me by. Why should I let them? And I know – even without knowing him for long, I know that's what Saul's offering. I _know_ it."

She was angry, indiscriminately so, breathing hard, eyes flashing. Beautiful. Too, _too _beautiful.

"Then what's stopping you?" he asked, finding his throat suddenly dry. "Why are you even asking the question, if that's what you want?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Why _am_ I? Tell me, Harry, because I don't know and I don't want to doubt myself any more. _Tell me._ Why?"

Harry stared at her. Her anger had gone as quickly as it had arrived, and all that was left was sadness and confusion. Without thinking, he reached out, and pulled her to him, tucking her head under his chin.

"I don't know," he told her, "whether you can just decide to love someone, any more than you can just decide to stop loving someone."

Nikki pulled away slightly and he was suddenly aware of her hands, pressed against his bare chest. The same thought must have occurred to her, too, because she traced her eyes over his skin before looking up at him, and something sparked in her eyes, something that made his heart turn over.

"Harry?" she whispered.

_If you want her, you'd better do something. And quickly…_

He couldn't move. He _couldn't_…

Somewhere behind them, a door banged and voices echoed along the tiled walls. Nikki pushed herself away from him and turned her back. Harry moved too, blood rushing in his ears, mechanically pulling his clothes out of his locker.

When he looked again, she had gone.

**[TBC]**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** It might be worth noting that this contains graphic descriptions of violence. More sensitive readers may want to skip it. I'll work the salient plot points into later chapters to cover.

**Thirty-Five**

_Partial statement of Samuel Kayembe, aged 14 years, to Detective Inspector Saul Ash of the Metropolitan Police. Statement taken under supervision of Ian Stuke, Waltham Forest Council designated primary care provider. Transcript and translation from French and Baluba by Anthony Dearden._

"When the militia came, they surrounded our village. They made everyone come out of their huts and line up. The men stood beside the men and the women stood beside the women. The women were crying, and the children. I did not cry, but my brother, Josue, did.

Our father had only one eye. They said he could not fight with only one eye. So they said he must give us to them instead, as soldiers for freedom against the oppression of the government. He did not want to. So they made Josue tell them which of the women was our mother, and our grandmother, and our sister. Josue did not want to tell them, but was afraid. So he did.

First, the men raped my mother. Then they cut off her breasts with their machetes. Then they told my father it was his fault, and they shot him dead. I think my mother was dead then, too. Then they said to me and to Josue that they would do the same to my grandmother and my sister. They would do that, or we could shoot them. That was our choice. They put guns in our hands. It was the first time I had held a gun. They put their machetes to our necks. They said if we did not shoot, they would kill everyone, and there would be no village. So we shot our mother and our sister. I was seven years old. My brother Josue was six.

After that we were soldiers. We did bad things, things that I do not remember until I am sleeping. I remember that they did not let us eat unless we had killed. The more we killed, the more we were given to eat.

Then the war ended. The militia sent us to the mine. Josue did not like it. He did not like the dark. He would wake screaming, and then they would beat him.

One day they told us they had a special job for us. They said we were going to go to England. I know about England because they have big football. They have Manchester United. David Beckham is from England. And Josue did not like the mine. So we said yes. They said they had to give us an operation first. They made us breathe something that smelled very bad. It made us sleep. When we woke up there were five of us. They were boys we knew from the mine. When we could walk, they put us into a truck. The journey took many days. The roads were not good. We were all in pain. Then we were taken out of the truck. Next they put us on a boat. Then we were in the asylum centre. It was very bight there. It was very noisy. Josue did not like it. He woke up screaming, and when he did people would shout at him, with words we did not understand. I would have fought them, but we had been told to behave well or they would put us in different places. I did not want us to be separated.

On the second day a man came. He wore a uniform like the others. He was nervous. He told us that there would be trouble the next night. And when the trouble began, we five should go to the fence. He told us where to be. When we got out, he said we should run for the trees we would see in front of us. There would be a man there, in a truck, waiting.

When we ran, it was raining. It was cold. Josue could not run fast. His operation was still hurting, very much. The rest of us were stronger than Josue. But the man found us. He put us into the truck. Then we drove. I could hear rain on the roof. Then we stopped and there were more men. They put us somewhere else, very dark. Josue did not like it.

They put us in another truck after that, but this time a man got in with us. He was from Nigeria. He told us, "Welcome to the promised land, boys." Then he said that some of us still had a long way to go. It had been decided that some of us would be lucky. Some of us would get to go up in the sky.

I did not want to go up in the sky. There are things men are not made to do. We do not have wings. Men should not fly. I did not want to go into an airplane. And I did not think that the man cared that Josue was my brother. He would make one of us leave the other behind. So when we stopped and he got out, we ran.

We should not have run."

**[TBC]**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N:** OK, so RL calls, loudly. Got to finish this, and quickly, as then I have to write something that will actually pay. For my wedding. So quite important. Eek. Hope some of you are still enjoying this! Thanks for reading x

**Thirty-six**

Leo was in his office when he saw Nikki arrive back at her desk. He wouldn't have paid any attention, but she passed his window with a flustered look on her face and a high flush in her cheeks that made his trouble senses tingle. They'd been on alert since his non-conversation with Harry in the pub. Something was going to give, he could sense it. Leo just hoped it wasn't the team itself.

Nikki lent over her desk, but didn't sit. He could see her hands clenched into fists. She picked up a manila report envelope that must have arrived during her absence and opened it. After studying the contents for a moment, she picked up her phone and dialled a number. The conversation only lasted a minute or so. She still didn't sit down, even after she replaced the receiver. Somehow Leo knew what was coming next.

Nikki met his eye briefly through the glass of his door, before opening it and coming inside.

"Hi," he said. "Everything all right?"

"Yes," she said, quickly. "Fine. But – can I leave early today? Now, I mean. Can I leave now?"

He looked at his watch. It was 4.30pm. Early for them, but then Nikki always did work hard.

"Please, Leo."

He frowned. "Of course you can," he told her. "But are you sure you're OK? Anything you want to talk about?"

Nikki shook her head. "No. Sorry, I'm just – a bit tired. Could do with a few hours to myself."

Leo nodded. "Sounds like a good idea. Sure, you go. Anything I need to take over for you?"

She managed a smile. "No, everything's fine. I've just let Detective Salter know about the results we were waiting for. Everything else I've done."

"OK. Go on, then. You deserve an early night."

"Thanks," Nikki muttered, already on her way. She didn't even wait for her computer to shut down, or put on her coat. Leo watched her leave, and then went back to his notes.

Less than five minutes later, Harry arrived. He also looked flustered, walking quickly into the office and then stopping dead when he saw that Nikki's chair was empty. He turned immediately, heading for Leo's office.

"Harry," Leo acknowledged, as he opened the door.

"Hi. Have you seen Nikki?"

"You just missed her. She's gone for the day."

Harry frowned. "Gone?"

Leo shrugged. "Nikki's been working hard. She asked to leave early, and I didn't see why she shouldn't."

Harry stared past him. "Right."

"Everything OK?"

"Yes – fine. Everything's fine."

"Good."

Harry nodded, once, and then turned away. Leo watched as he headed back to his desk and dropped heavily into his chair.

_Yes,_ he thought. _Trouble._

**[TBC]**


	37. Chapter 37

**Thirty-Seven**

Ash was back at his desk when Salter called.

"Where are you?" he asked. "I could have done with my wing man this afternoon."

_"Sorry,"_ Reuben said. _"Did you not get my message? Nathan was sick – I had to pick him up from school early."_

Ash frowned. "Is he ok?"

_"Yeah – he seemed to make a remarkable recovery as soon as he sat down in front of the Xbox, funnily enough. How was Samuel's statement?"_

Ash rubbed a hand over his eyes. "What you'd expect really. Bloody awful. He doesn't know much that can help us. Although he did say that the boys were going to be divided into two shipments. It's why he and his brother ran. He realised they might be separated."

_"Could he identify the first body?"_

"No, afraid not."

_"Well, despite me having to slope off, I've had a pretty good day. Have you seen that MP that's been sounding off about the airport closures?"_

"Um. Millicent someone?"

_"Right. Millicent Davey. Well, I thought her name rang a bell for more than just being a loud-mouthed Lucinda, so I did some digging."_

"And?"

_"You're going to love this. She's got a husband, but they don't use the same married name, because he's dodgy as hell. Became bankrupt a few years ago after a few sniffy business deals with a group of Saudis. He was a fool - they all claimed diplomatic immunity and he was left to carry the can. Even did a stretch. Three guesses what his name is."_

Ash felt himself smiling. "Gerard _bloody _Crossfair."

_"Got it in one. Oh, and have you spoken to Nikki? Those chalk samples were a match. Both Samuel and the heavy had been in that yard at Tanner Construction."_

Saul nodded. "That fits. Samuel said the boys were held somewhere for a bit after they were picked up outside the processing centre."

_"Well, there were three or four empty storage containers set back in the mine that could be a fit."_

"With the chalk match, that probably gives us enough for a warrant. I'll get some SOCOs down there to go over it properly."

_"Still can't see a link between the two companies called Tanner,"_ said Reuben.

"It's got to be there somewhere. We'll keep looking."

_"Did the boy have anything useful for us about the centre?"_ asked Salter. _"Whether they had a contact inside?"_

"A guard. He told them where to be, and when."

_"Any chance of an ID? Of the guard, or anyone that brought them over?"_

"I think so. He's a smart kid when he's not scared for his life." There was a pause. "We're getting closer, Reuben. I think we might actually crack this. For a while there, I wasn't sure we would."

He could feel Salter's smile down the line. _"Feels good, doesn't it?"_

"It'll feel better if we can find those two boys still alive. I don't know – I've just got a feeling they are."

_"Well, that's not a bad thing to hold on to. Listen, do you want to come round tonight? Jenny's made lasagne. Says there's plenty."_

"Tell her many thanks, but not tonight."

_"Plans with Nikki?"_

Ash drummed his fingers on his desk. "Maybe. We'll see. I've got some things to do here first. I think I might be rushing things, anyway. I'm... rusty."

_"Nah,"_ said Reuben, cheerfully. _"You just know a good thing when you see it. I say marry her before she can get away."_

Saul laughed. "Night, Reuben."

_"Do you want me to come back to the station? I can. It's not even five yet."_

"No, it's fine. Have an evening with your family. Tell Nathan he'd better have a good score for me to thrash next time I visit."

**[TBC]**


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N:** It's entirely possible that I have spent too much time listening to the Hurts song, _Stay_. Hope this isn't terrible.

**Thirty-Eight**

When Nikki left the Lyell Centre, it was raining again. By the time she reached home, it was a torrent, drenching her as she ran the short distance from her car to the front door of her block. Even that was enough to chill her to the bone, and once she got in she stood inside her front door, shivering.

She knew wasn't just the cold. She couldn't make sense of that moment in the locker room. One minute she'd been angry, the next...

She could still feel Harry's skin, under her palms, soft from his shower, and there had been a look in his eyes...

Nikki sucked in a ragged breath and clenched her fists. She wouldn't do this again. There had been a time, a few years ago, when the thought of Harry Cunningham had turned her inside out. But nothing had come of it – nothing had _ever _come of it – and it had gone on too long and meant both too much and too little. And now there was Saul.

Nikki stared across her hallway into the mirror that hung there. Saul. Saul, who said he loved her and whose strong hands thrilled in their gentleness. But, just now, just for a split second, there had been _Harry-_

Nikki pushed the thought away and took a deep breath. She was cold and out of sorts, and a hot bath would help. She went to the bathroom and ran water as hot as she could bear into the tub, watching the room fill with steam and trying to blank her mind.

The soak helped. As she lay there, letting the water soothe her, she could see the darkening night through the window. It was still raining, and wind lashed against the glass.

Gradually, as Nikki had known it would, the hot water returned her equilibrium. By the time she had dried herself and pulled on a robe, she was fine again, and she had a plan. What she needed was to see Saul. This thing with Harry was nothing. It never had been. It was two work colleagues teasing each other, alleviating the pressures of their job. It couldn't ever be more. And she _wanted _more, before life passed her by completely. Why shouldn't that come from Saul? What were the chances of her meeting someone better?

She was reaching for the phone when a knock sounded at her door. Nikki went to it, frowning. Her neighbour must have left the street door on the latch again. She opened it a fraction.

"_Harry_? What-"

"Let me in," he said.

She opened the door wider, their earlier friction forgotten in the face of his appearance. "You're soaked!" she said, "What on earth happened?"

Harry pushed past her, shutting the door. His shirt and jeans were drenched, sticking to his skin, his hair and face dripping wet.

"Harry-"

"Don't say anything," he said, hoarsely, as he stepped closer, so quickly that in a second he was right inside her space. "Nikki, please - _don't say anything_."

He touched his hands to her hips, and she gasped as the cold of his fingers instantly burned through the thin fabric of her robe. Harry pulled her against him, his icy lips finding hers, the contrasting heat of his mouth sharply erotic as kissed her. Nikki, stunned, parted her lips and the kiss grew deeper. She felt something in her chest, a thunderbolt building as Harry's hands moved from her waist. He slid one arm around her, pulling her flush against him, running his other hand up her back, over the silky material of her robe and into her hair. There was no space left between them even to breathe, and Nikki pressed her hands against his shoulders, but not even she knew if she was pushing him away or pulling him close. His body against hers was lean and hard, as he held her against him, the icy rain soaking down to her hot skin. She felt her nipples harden at the sensation, every nerve ending sparking at once. The thunderbolt exploded, spinning down into her core, turning her to jelly. Feeling her quiver, Harry pushed her backwards, gently, until she was pressed against the wall.

His lips left hers, but only to trail heat along her jawbone and down on to her neck. Nikki leaned her head back against the wall, trying to catch her breath, trying to think, but his mouth was so _hot_… so-

The phone rang. She jumped, but Harry held her fast.

"Don't answer it," he whispered, against her ear, before kissing her again.

"Harry-"

"_Don't. Answer. It_."

She was breathless. "It's Saul," she managed. "It's _Saul_."

He kissed her again as the phone rang on, but the spell was broken. She pushed against his shoulders.

"Harry-"

He pulled back, still pressing her against the wall. Nikki struggled for breath as he cupped her face in both hands. He went to kiss her again, but she turned her head away.

"Don't," she said. "Please. _Don't_."

Harry froze for a second. The phone rang on, loud in the sudden silence of her flat. Then he backed away, still staring at her. A moment later, he turned on his heel, opened the door, and was gone.

Nikki stayed where she was, shaking, her hands flattened against the wall.

The phone stopped ringing.

**[TBC]**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N:** Sorry there was no update yesterday. A very tough week at work caught up with my brain.

**Thirty-Nine**

Ash put down the phone and glanced at his watch. It was almost 8pm, so perhaps Nikki had plans and was already out. Maybe it would be a good idea to let things cool a little, anyway. Although she hadn't shied away from him after his confession the night before, Saul realised it had been a lot to lay on someone so early. He hadn't intended to say half the things he'd ended up saying, they'd just come out. There was just something about Nikki Alexander that made him feel as if he were on safe ground. Even now, the thought of her made him smile.

He still had plenty to do at his desk, and with nothing else to fill his evening, Ash decided he might as well stay put. Picking up a Home Office report on people trafficking, he rested his feet on his desk and leaned back in his chair, flicking on the small flat screen TV that hung above the bullpen. Usually the station was so noisy that no one could really hear it, but tonight only Ash was left on the floor. He brought up News24 and watched it for a couple of minutes before leaving it to burble in the background. Flicking open the document on his lap, Ash began to read.

He'd got about two pages into an account of differing trafficking methods when something began to niggle at him. He looked back at the screen, but it was the end of the bulletin, and the newsreader had moved on to an innocuous story about freak weather in the Highlands. Ash put his feet back on the floor and stood up, reading the headlines scrolling along the bottom of the screen.

_Saudi Arabia prepares for the nation's first demonstrations in favour of democracy • Evacuation of British nationals from Libya hampered by continuing security alerts at London airports • UK Borders Agency under renewed pressure from MPs to relax flight restrictions_

Ash stared blankly at the words, his mind whirring. Then he dropped the report he'd been reading and pulled out Samuel Kayembe's statement instead, scanning it quickly.

"_He said that some of us still had a long way to go. It had been decided that some of us would be lucky. Some of us would get to go up in the sky. I did not want to go up in the sky. There are things men are not made to do. We do not have wings. Men should not fly. I did not want to go into an airplane."_

Saul frowned and clicked at his computer screen, bringing up the notes Salter had sent him on Gerard Crossfair.

_Crossfair did a two-year stretch at Wormwood Scrubs for shady dealings with a group of Saudi businessmen in the late '90s... They claimed diplomatic immunity and were able to leave the country by private jet without questioning. The case had involved illegal mineral exports from Nigeria. _

_Nigeria._ Ash picked up Samuel's statement again. _"They put us in another truck after that, but this time a man got in with us. He was from Nigeria. He told us, 'Welcome to the promised land, boys.'"_

Then there was the MP – Crossfair's wife - the one who was trying so hard to get the airports reopened. Why was she so adamant? The Saudis were why her husband had done time. Would he really deal with them again? Was he seeing connections where there really weren't any?

Ash stared at Salter's empty chair, wishing he were there. Saul needed someone to bounce these questions around with, to help him see the wood among the trees. But it was too late to bother Reuben now. They would have just got the kids to bed, and he and Jenny deserved some time together.

Ash rubbed a hand over his face and paced for a moment, letting his thoughts percolate. Then he looked up a number, picked up his office phone, and dialled.

It took a while to get through to the UK Borders Agency, the government body responsible for, among other things, shutting the airspace over London. Ash figured that, rather understandably, they were quite busy. When someone finally took his call, the woman on the other end if the line was brusque.

"This is a murder enquiry," Ash told her, equally abrupt and in no mood to coddle. "I just need a few questions answered, that's all."

"Of course, Detective Inspector. Sorry," she apologised. "Things here have been a little tense this week. But at least they should begin to calm over the next few hours."

Ash frowned. "Oh? Why?"

"We'll be reopening the airspace over London," she said, and then muttered, "thank God."

Saul felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. "Then my enquiry just became far more urgent. I need to know if there have been recent requests for departure to Saudi Arabia."

The woman made a snorting noise that Ash took to be a dry laugh. "There certainly have been. Emirates and Saudi Arabian Airlines have both been going mad over the flight ban. Their top nationals want to get home before the protests. No idea why. I'd stay well clear, myself."

Ash ignored her. "Not commercial flights. I'm thinking private ones. Anyone who seems particularly desperate to get off the ground."

"Hold on..."

Ash waited impatiently as she tapped at her keyboard. "Yes," she said. "There have been several requests, but one stands out. They've been requesting permission to take off since the ban was levied - almost every hour, by the look of it."

Saul's heart began to thump. "Which airport?"

"They're not at an airport. They've got their own private airfield near Romford in Essex. And as of an hour ago, they were given departure clearance."

"_What?_ Why?"

"The listed passengers have diplomatic immunity. As soon as the decision was made to reopen airspace, we had to tell them."

"_When?"_ Ash asked, urgently, "When are they taking off?"

"Their take off notification was filed a few minutes ago. They're using the latest slot they can - flights can't operate all night over the capital for environmental reasons. They've requested take off for eleven."

"Can you stop them?"

"Not unless you get an executive order to shut all London airspace again."

Ash swore, then apologised and thanked her for her time. He hung up, grabbing his coat and keys. There was no time to talk to dispatch. He'd have to call them on his way.

**[TBC]**


	40. Chapter 40

**Forty**

The Seller put down the telephone. He smiled at the men standing a few feet away.

"The buyers are ready to depart," he said. "My life is therefore about to get much easier."

The men shifted on their feet. One by one, and nervously, they smiled back. Their pathetic relief made The Seller smile even more widely. They knew that he was happy. And when the Seller was happy, life was much less precarious.

The Seller turned to look out at the bright lights of London. From where he stood, he could see the London Eye as it trailed colour on its slow rotation. Green, tonight, instead of red. He sighed. Sometimes life was needlessly complicated. Everything was so much nicer when people just observed his instructions.

"They have agreed, once again, to take the shipment whole," he said. "Which is as it should be. But there is no time to waste. Pack up, quickly. We need to be at the airfield before 11pm."

He watched as the men scurried away. Then he picked up an apple from the bowl on his desk. It was also green. He idly held it up to the window, measuring the shade against the lights in the darkness.

Tonight, he would become a very rich man.

**[TBC]**


	41. Chapter 41

**Forty-One**

Harry reached home and changed into dry clothes, his thoughts weary and broken. Outside, the wind and rain were still tearing the air to pieces. He stood and watched it from his window, thinking of how spectacularly he had managed to tear apart the best thing in his life.

She'd pushed him away. She'd kissed him - he still had the memory of her lips opening under his, the brush of her tongue in his mouth - but she'd pushed him away.

Wiping a hand over his face, Harry went to a cupboard and pulled out the bottle of whisky uncle Arthur had given him for Christmas. It was still unopened - he wasn't usually one for the hard stuff - but right now he intended to drink, and keep drinking.

He thought about calling Leo, but immediately discounted the idea. For one thing, Leo would probably try to stop him drinking. And Harry didn't want to stop until he couldn't remember what the bottle was for.

He wanted to drink until he couldn't remember the feel of Nikki pressed so completely against him that it was inconceivable she didn't belong there. Until he couldn't remember how flushed her cheeks had been and how good she had smelled... How good she had _felt_. How, if she hadn't told him to stop...

Harry drained his first glass and poured another. He was on his way to draining that, too, when the doorbell went. He dragged a hand through his hair and went to open it, hoping it wasn't Leo.

It wasn't.

"What the _hell _was that?" asked Nikki, as she stormed past him.

Harry watched as she turned to look at him, fury alight in her eyes. He pushed the door shut with a sinking heart.

"I'm not sure I understand the question," he said.

"What are you playing at, Harry? What was that, some kind of joke?"

He headed for the bottle again. He didn't understand why she was here, in his flat. "A joke?"

Nikki scraped her loose hair back from her face with both hands, shaking her head. "What is it with you? Do you honestly think that the world - _my_ world - just revolves around you? That you can snap your fingers and I'll come running, no matter what?"

"What? Of course I don't!"

"Then what?" she asked, voice rising to a shout. "I tell you that I'm seeing someone – someone I really like, someone I think I could actually have a proper, adult future with – and the next thing I know, you're pinning me to a wall. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Harry frowned, his own anger beginning to rise. "What are you even doing here?" he asked her. "You pushed me away. I get it. What, you wanted to make sure you rubbed enough salt in the wound? Is that it?"

He saw the incandescent flash in her eyes. "_Me_ rub salt in the wound? How can you say that? How can you stand there, and say that?"

"What else am I supposed to say? I kissed you, you told me not to. Fine. So what's the problem? Why aren't you with Saul now? Why are you here, shouting at me, if you don't want to do as much damage as possible?"

Nikki stared at him. "Damage?" she repeated.

Harry swallowed the end of his third glass of whisky. "You know, this argument is gong to take a really long time if we both keep repeating what the other says. So how about this: I made a fool of myself. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. How's that? Or so I need to put on sackcloth and ashes and flagellate myself, too? Is that what you want?"

"I just want to know why, Harry," she said. "Is that so much to ask?"

He shook his head, amazed at her insensitivity. "My god. What is _wrong_ with you?"

"That's something I'm really beginning to wonder. Do I have a sign over my head that says, 'Easy target. Please take shot'?"

It was Harry's turn to stare. "What?"

"Seriously, Harry. What is it about me?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, genuinely confused. He'd kissed her, he'd asked that question in the only way that he could contemplate at the time, and she'd said no. He shouldn't have even tried, but he'd had to. She'd stood there in the locker room and told him someone else was in love with her, someone she thought she could love... "What the hell do you _want_ from me?"

"I want to know why. Why, when I was just-" unexpectedly, her voice broke. She turned away.

"When you were just what?"

There was a moment of silence. "I don't want this," she said. "I don't want to go back to this."

"Go back to what? Nikki, you're not making sense."

She turned to look at him, and Harry was shocked to see that she was close to tears.

"I can't stand still forever. I need someone. But every time I try… Every time I try, I end up..."

He watched her. "What?" he asked, something strange happening to his heart. "Nikki, every time you try - _what_?"

"You make me remember you," she whispered. "And I don't want to, Harry. Not if you just-"

He stared at her, letting silence fill the room. _Remember_ him? What was she talking about?

"Why do you think I came to your flat earlier?" he asked, eventually.

She shook her head, glancing up at the ceiling and wiping away tears. "I don't know. I really don't know. I don't know why you do half the things you do."

He took a step toward her. "You drive me mad, do you know that? You're brilliant, but insist on being ridiculous and irrational as often as you are inspired. You argue with me just for the sake of arguing. You never wash up your coffee mug – and somehow it always ends up on _my_ desk just when it's too disgusting to contemplate drinking out of anymore."

She looked at him, uncomprehending.

"You nag, you cajole, you always think you're right - and the most annoying thing about that is that you often _are_..."

"Harry-"

"...and after six years, Nikki – after _six years_… you still take my breath away. Every time I see you." He shrugged. "_Every time_. There it is. Sorry."

They stared at each other. Harry gripped his glass, searching for something solid, because everything else seemed to be shifting around him.

"So... what?" she asked, eventually, her voice shaky. "You thought, 'This could be my last chance?'"

He nodded, not dropping her gaze. "Yes, actually. That's exactly what I thought."

"Your last chance for what, Harry?" she asked. "To add me to your tally?"

He blinked. "_What?_"

"You know what I mean."

"You think I was looking for a quick shag? You think that's why I stood outside in the freezing rain for half an hour, trying to work up the courage to knock on your door? Because I thought I'd better do it before you were out of bounds?"

"Why not? I must be one of the few women in London you haven't tried it with," she said, anger rising again. "And the last time you did this… The last time you…", her voice faltered, "the last time you kissed me... That was all it was. And if-"

He shook his head. Had she really misunderstood him so completely? "That wasn't – that wasn't all it was. Not then. Not ever. And I thought it was the last chance for us. The last chance for _us_."

She blinked. "Harry-"

He took a deep breath, and threw himself off a precipice. "Nikki, I can't tell you what we'd be like together. I can't tell you if we'd work as a couple. We know each other at work, we're as close as two friends could possibly be. But being together, every day, every night? I don't know if that would work. Maybe it would all go horribly, disastrously wrong. And that terrifies me. But what I can tell you is that more often than not, you are the last thing I think of at night, and the first thing I think of in the morning, and I realise now that it's been that way for so long that it feels normal. I can tell you that every time I have tried to leave, it's the thought of you that has made me stay. I can tell you that in six years, I've never had a relationship that was ever going to go anywhere because somehow, even if I didn't know it at the time, I always wanted something else. Some_one_ else. Nikki, I know now that if I have ever been in love, then I am in love with you. I think I always have been. So, I'm sorry, but I don't want you to be happy with Saul Ash. Even if he's the best man on earth, even if he can give you everything you want… Even if loving him will make you happy… I don't want you to love him. I'm not that selfless. I want you to love me. I want you to want… _me_."

**[TBC]**


	42. Chapter 42

**Forty-Two**

The rain hammered against the windshield as the streetlamps splashed yellow across his face. From inside the sheltered space of the station, Ash hadn't realised the weather was so bad. He was heading fast along the M11, listening to the toneless directions from his tom-tom and trying to call for backup. It was no good - there was either something wrong with his phone, or the weather was so bad that it was interfering with the signal.

Ash debated what to do, but not for long. He was convinced that the last of the two boys were going to be on that flight. If it took off with them, they would never be seen again. Even if he turned out to be wrong, even of the flight ended up grounded because of the weather – he couldn't take that chance.

He gave up trying to call the station and dialled Salter's number instead.

All he got was an elongated _bleep_.

**[TBC]**


	43. Chapter 43

**Forty-Three**

Nikki stared at him, wide-eyed and breathing hard, as if she couldn't quite believe what he'd said. Harry didn't blame her - he'd even surprised himself. But at least it was out there. At least, this time, there was no going back. No joke on earth would get him out of this one. He blamed the whisky.

As if she'd read his mind, Harry saw Nikki glance at his glass. "How many of those have you had?" she asked, shakily.

Harry looked down at his drink and then back up at her. "I bare my soul, and _that_'s the best you can come up with?"

She shook her head. "I thought… it might have a bearing."

Harry rubbed a hand over his eyes. Turned out there was a joke to be made after all. It was just at his expense. "You know what, Nikki? You're right. Forget everything I just said. I'm clearly drunk and can't be trusted."

"_Harry... _" she said, in her 'don't be like that' voice.

He turned away, exasperated. "Well, what do you want me to say?"

"Nothing, I don't-" She stopped. "You just – took me by surprise."

He looked back at her, tracing his eyes over her face. The memory of her tongue, just brushing his, surfaced again. His want made him brave. "You can't be that surprised," he said, voice husky. "Not after a kiss like that."

Nikki looked away, but he saw her flush. A shiver passed through her whole body, and he thought of how she'd moved against him, so fluidly that he'd had to hold her up.

Harry put down his glass and walked toward her until they were as close as they had been in her hallway. Nikki didn't step back, but her breathing quickened, her gaze fixed elsewhere.

"Look at me," he told her, softly. When she didn't, Harry hooked a finger under her chin and tipped her head up. "You felt it, Nikki. I know you did. And you can't tell me it's the only time. Can you?"

She stared into his eyes, and he saw hers fill with tears.

"Yes," she whispered, haltingly. "Yes, I felt it. And no, it's not the only time. But-"

Harry cut off her protest with a kiss. It was softer, this time, full of six years worth of almost-moments, of teasing and barely-acknowledged thoughts. Full of what could so easily be in the future. He felt her sag against him for moment. But then she pulled away.

"I can't do this," she said, eyes still full of tears.

Harry felt his heart stop. "What?"

Nikki backed away. "Just - we just have to slow down. This morning we were just friends. And-"

"You _know_ that isn't true. You and I, Nikki - we've never been 'just friends'. Have we?"

She looked up at him. "I thought we were. I thought that's all you wanted. And so I tried to move on."

"But that didn't work, did it? _Did it_?"

There was a pause, and then she shook her head, tears running down her face. "No. But neither might this," she indicated between them. "And what then?"

"Don't think about that now. No one can know that. All you can know is what you feel. What you want. What do you _want_?"

She stared at him, the silence drifting so long that Harry wondered if she'd forgotten he was there. And then, she said, in a whisper almost too low for him to hear, "You. I want you. I've _always_ wanted you."

For a second his heart wouldn't let him move. Then he took a step toward her, but Nikki held up both hands to stop him.

"Wait," she said. "Just wait, Harry, please. I can't... I can't do this now. Yet. Us, I mean... I have to – I have to talk to Saul. I can't…"

Harry shut his eyes, the gamut of emotions in his head and heart almost too much to deal with. She was right. Rationally he knew that. The right thing was to cool this down until she was emotionally free – morally free, even. But all he wanted to do was make her stay. If she left now, who knew what would happen? Cold feet, second thoughts…

"I'm sorry," Nikki said. "But you understand. Don't you?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Stay," he said.

Nikki shook her head. "I can't."

"Then promise me you'll come back."

She looked at him for a minute, and then walked toward him until her toes met his. Then she stood on tip-toe and raised one hand, resting it against his jaw, thumb moving to stroke his cheek.

"I will," she said, softly. "I promise."

**[TBC]**


	44. Chapter 44

**Forty-Five**

Ash pulled up beside the edge of the airfield. Beyond the strong fence, across the grass and tarmac, he could see a hangar among a tiny cluster of small buildings, and floodlights delineating the runway. There was no control tower – the facility was too small, even for that. Ash tried his phone again, but got nothing. The rain was still hammering on the roof, and despite the lights inside the fence, the night outside was inky black.

He drove along the road that edged the fence, his headlights picking out the torrent all the way. Nothing else passed him – the area seemed deserted, buried beyond the concrete jungle of a suburban industrial estate. Saul squinted through the windshield as a gate loomed out of the darkness. A small shed stood beside it, and through the window he could see a dim light.

Pulling up beside it, he saw movement and lowered his window. A morose-looking woman in her fifties leaned out of the hut's window.

"This is private land," she shouted, over the noise of the rain.

Saul opened his warrant card and held it out. "Just making a few enquiries. Can you open the gate?"

She hesitated for a moment, before nodding and leaning over to press a button. Ash scribbled something his notepad and tore it out, handing it to her through the rain.

"Do me a favour? Call this number, tell them where you are, and tell them Detective Inspector Saul Ash asked you to call. Can you do that?"

The woman nodded silently, sliding her window shut as the gates opened. Ash pulled forward, turning off his lights and driving on. He did not head directly for the buildings ahead. He turned left, his black car gliding over grass as he glanced at his watch. It had just passed 10pm.

**-X-**

The Seller stood, arms crossed, impassive. Overhead, the corrugated iron reverberated with the incessant sound of rain. He was irritated, by the weather, by the fact that he had had to come out in it. By the face that the Saudi's were late. It smacked of a lack of respect, and the Seller valued respect. Take him, for example. He could have opted not to come. He could have left it to lesser men, men he paid a wage and in return allowed themselves to be treated how he chose. But he had come. Himself. He had offered them that respect, and it had not been returned.

His phone rang. The Seller uncrossed his arms, pausing to clean a finger nail before pulling it out. He answered the call and held it to his ear, silently.

"_You have a visitor,"_ said the voice. It was female. His lip curled in disgust as he pictured her slovenly face_. "He's on his way to you. Detective Inspector Saul Ash. I don't think he has a phone with him. He asked me to place a call on his behalf."_

The Seller terminated the call. He put his phone back into his pocket. _Detective Inspector Saul Ash._ Yes. He knew that name. His Buyer had told him that the man was untouchable. It had been looked into. The man could not be reached.

The Seller smiled. He knitted his fingers together and snapped his knuckles.

Ash was on his turf now.

**[TBC]**


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N:** I suspect people are becoming bored with this story. Thank you to everyone still reading and reviewing, it means a lot. I hope I don't disappoint with the ending, which is nigh. x

Forty-Five

Ash brought the car to a stop, killing the engine quickly. The wipers shuddered to a halt and rain crowded the glass, making it almost impossible to see out. He looked at his phone again, but the signal had flatlined completely. He had no way of knowing how long it would take backup to reach him, and the clock was ticking. Opening his glove box, Saul took out the small torch he always kept there, slipping it into his pocket.

He opened the door, pulling his coat collar up around his neck. Squinting against the rain, Saul could see the hangar standing open, the space lit brightly against the night. The Saudi's jet was still inside, but he could see from where he stood that the tail lights were on. The pilot was probably inside, conducting final checks. On the ground, though, there was no sign of movement.

Ash shut the car door. His coat, caught by the wind, billowed out behind him. He pulled it closer to his body, glad he'd chosen black. Anything lighter would have made him an even easier target than he felt already.

He crouched by the car, working out what to do. It didn't look as if the Saudi's had arrived. None of the buildings he could see seemed a fitting waiting room for men who owned a private jet. Perhaps that meant the handover was being left until the last minute, and the traffickers weren't here either.

Ash headed across the grass, keeping low and moving quickly. He reached the first of the four smaller buildings within a couple of minutes. It was little more than a shed, built of wooden slats. The door wasn't locked, but then there was nothing within to secure. Ash flicked on his torch and surveyed the empty space for a moment, but it was empty except for several folding chairs, leaning against one wall. He backed out and pulled the door shut, pausing to wipe the rain from his face with his sodden coat sleeve. Saul's lips were numb with cold, his hair so drenched that the water was beginning to trickle down his neck. He could feel it seeping under his collar.

He moved on to the second building, which was slightly larger than the first, big enough to have glass windows cut into its side. He glanced through them, but there was too little light to see. He tried the door – it was stiff, but gave when he wrenched it – and stepped inside. It wasn't quite as empty as the first, but still held nothing of interest. There were a few boxes, and an old metal cabinet standing against the far wall, and a second door, but nothing else. Ash tried the cabinet door, but it was locked. His hand came away covered in dust – it didn't look as if had been opened for years. He checked a couple of the boxes, but they contained nothing useful.

Ash was heading for the door when a sound made him stop. He stood, listening, straining to hear anything beneath the incessant thunder of rain. He was about to give up, when he heard it again. It was a scraping sound, erratic, muffled. He turned. It was coming from the cabinet.

He moved to it quickly, placing his ear against the cold metal. For a long moment, there was nothing, and then – movement. Something was inside – something alive. Shuffling, weakly. But it was there.

Saul tugged at the door, but it was locked fast. Stepping back, he looked around. There had to be something here he could use as a jemmy… He scrabbled through one box, and then another, lifting a third up and tipping the contents out onto the floor.

Then he froze. There was a flash of light outside, arcing through the air from a distance. It splashed weakly against the glass of the window opposite, and Saul ducked, crouching close to the floor. The light moved on, but now he could hear shouts over the rain.

He scrabbled among the contents of the box, heart hammering. _There's got to be something here,_ he thought to himself, _there has to be… _ His fingers struck something hard and he grasped it. It looked like the broken hinge of a swing door – a piece of metal about seven inches long and one inch wide, tapering to a curl at one end where something had sheared off it. Ash rocked back on his heels and onto his feet, lunging for the cabinet.

He hooked the curled end into the split between the doors and wrenched backwards. The door didn't move. He wrenched again, and this time he felt the hinges shift, fractionally. Saul paused, gathering his strength, planting his feet further apart. Then he tried again, feeling the burn in his biceps as they passed comfort. He forced his shoulders forward, angling down, trying to force the doors off their hinges. There was a clang, and one of the doors flipped forward as they came apart, crashing against his shoulder and then to the floor.

He dropped the jemmy and lunged forward, looking into the darkness inside. Three pairs of eyes looked up at him from the floor.

"_Three?"_ Ash sucked in air, trying to catch his breath. The boys were huddled together, and shrank back even further as he loomed over them. He shook his head. "It's OK – it's OK…" he remembered what their files had said. They didn't understand English, only French and their own dialect. "Gendarme," he said, holding out a hand, "Gendarme…"

Another sound echoed over the rain – a speeding car, screeching over wet tarmac. The boys were still afraid, but he had no time to lose. Reaching out, he pulled them out. The car stopped, and there was the slam of doors, following by shouts and more flashes of light. Saul looked out of the window, seeing two groups of men standing in the light of the car's headlights, remonstrating wildly. One pointed toward their hut, and two of the men began to walk toward it.

Saul ran to the second door, lifting one leg to aim an all mighty kick directly at it. The wood splintered as it sprang open, firing razor-sharp shards directly into his face. One slashed against his cheek, and he felt hot blood well and trickle over his skin. He looked back at the boys. They were poorly dressed, in shorts and t-shirts, clothes too weak for the weather and too bright to go unnoticed even in the dark. He struggled out of his coat and held it out to them.

"Fuir," he said, voice urgent even to his own ears. "Run, hide. Fuir – _cacher_!"

The biggest boy nodded, grabbing Saul's coat and fleeing out of the door, pulling the smallest boy with him, the other close on their heels. They disappeared into the lashing dark, swallowed up by the night the moment they reached the bottom of the stairs.

The door behind him crashed open. The two men poured into the hut and saw the open, empty cabinet. Ash threw himself after the boys as a chorus of shouts went up. His feet struck the wet earth and slid, his bulk almost throwing him off-balance as he struggled to stay upright. He sprinted over the grass, heading for the car. He didn't look for the children – the men were distracted, paying no attention to their lost cargo. Every minute gave them a chance to find somewhere to hide.

Blood pounded in his ears, the cut on his cheek stinging under the weight of rain. He could see the outline of his car, crouching darkly in the black night. He glanced sideways, looking toward the gates, but could see no backup. _Where the hell are they? They must know by now-_

There was a dull _crack_, a hard, flat blast like a car backfiring, and suddenly Saul was crashing headlong to the ground. The pain set in a second later, searing up his calf and into his hip. He flipped himself over, but couldn't stand. Behind him he could see the men closing, fast. Behind them was a third man, lowering a shotgun.

Saul went for his phone, and then realised it was still in the pocket of his coat. He edged backwards on his hands and feet, but it was no good. They were on him in seconds, one landing a blow to his jaw, the other planting a heavy kick at his shattered leg.

"Stop!" The third man walked toward the tableau. He came slowly, nonchalantly, as if he was taking a walk in the park. His face was in darkness, his features hidden by night. But his teeth… Saul could see his teeth. He was smiling. He walked until he stood directly over Ash. He passed the shotgun to one of the men. For a moment he looked down, as if contemplating what would happen next. Then he flicked back his jacket and slowly pulled something from his waistband. A knife. No - not just a knife. A machete.

Something caught Saul's eye. It was bright, flickering at the edge of his vision. He turned toward it.

It was Lydie. She was smiling at him.

She was waiting.

**[TBC]**


	46. Chapter 46

**Forty-Six**

The next day, Nikki was at her desk even earlier than usual. She had woken in her own bed, alone. Her first thought had been of Harry, and then, a moment later, of Ash. She'd tried to call Saul the night before, but his phone had been off. Not that Nikki had any idea what she was going to say. _Can we meet? We need to talk… _

Her anxiety over the inevitable conversation she would have to have with him was overlaid by an undiminished and, it seemed to her, a slightly shameful sense of anticipation. These emotions did not sit well together. All night she had struggled, alternately, with memories of Harry that were still hot enough to turn her core molten, against the knowledge that she would inevitably hurt Saul. And Nikki didn't want to do that – had never _intended_ to do that. She still wasn't sure how all of this had happened. Yesterday she had gone from being at the start of one thing to being thrown into the middle of something else, with some_one_ else. And despite everything, despite the shimmering mirage of the life she had seen offered by Saul, despite her certain knowledge that once committed, he would have stayed committed to her for good – it was just impossible for there to be any other outcome than the one she had chosen the previous night. When she thought of Harry –

Nikki tried to pull herself back from the tumultuous daydream world of her thoughts. Whatever happened, she and Harry would still have to work together. She tried to sink herself into the results of a set of tests she'd run on the first body's bones, but her jitters continued. Any minute he was going to come walking in, as he did every morning. Except _this _morning he was going to do it having declared himself to be in love with her. Having kissed her more effectively than she'd ever been kissed in her life. Twice.

An hour later, as the clock was touching 9am, he did. She heard the beep of his access card and then his measured footsteps coming toward her. Nikki tried to concentrate on the graph in front of her, and kept her head down. His footsteps stopped several feet away.

"Morning," Harry said, softly, behind her.

"Morning," she answered. Nikki thought she should probably turn around, but she couldn't bring herself to. He came to her, instead, stopping beside her chair. When she still didn't look up, Harry dropped to a crouch beside her so that she couldn't avoid meeting his eye. He was smiling - but, she realised, he was wary, too.

Nikki reached out, lightly brushing her fingers through the hair at his temple. "How's your head?"

"Fine," he said, before adding, "I wasn't drunk."

She smiled. They stayed that way for a moment, just looking at each other. Nikki wondered what he was thinking, but before either of them could say anything more, her desk phone rang. She looked at it for a moment, and a pulse of dread passed through her heart.

Harry went to his chair. Nikki let the phone rang once more before she leaned over to pick it up. "Nikki Alexander."

"_Nikki, hi. It's Reuben. Reuben Salter."_

She was relieved, and then immediately ashamed for it. "Morning, Reuben. Have you got something for me?"

There was a pause. _"Look,"_ Salter said, sounding uncomfortable. _"Look, Nikki, I'm sorry to ask you this… but did Saul stay with you last night?"_

Nikki blinked. "What?"

"_I'm sorry,"_ he said again, _"I'm really sorry. I wouldn't ask, but… I need to know."_

She put a hand to her forehead. "No," she said. "No, he didn't."

There was another brief silence. _"Did you talk to him at all? Last night?"_

Nikki frowned. "No, I – I tried to call him, but his phone was off."

"_And you haven't heard from him this morning?"_

"No… Reuben – what's this all about?"

She heard Salter's heavy sigh, and could hear the worry in it. "He's not been in yet today. It's unlike him not to be in at eight. His phone's still off, there's no answer at his place. I called the cemetery, but the groundsman says he's not seen Saul for a couple of days."

Nikki mouth suddenly felt dry. "Could he have overslept? Perhaps his phone is out of battery."

_"No, that's not it. I sent uniform to knock on his door, but they got no answer. That's why I called you. I thought that maybe… Anyway, it's his desk that's really got me worried."_

Something was tightening around her chest. "Why?"

_"It's a mess. Files open, papers all over. He never leaves his desk in a mess. Never. I think he left in a rush. The duty sergeant said he didn't see him go, but he knows Ash was here late."_

"I don't…"

_"There's something else. We've got a hit from the photofit Samuel Kayembe did for us. The trafficker who met them on this end is a Nigerian gang lord called Dapo Oyedele. He's about as bad as they come. The list of crimes we think he's involved in is as long as my arm, but we've never had anything solid to pin on him. I've got a warrant to send a SOCO team down to Folkestone to see if they can get anything from Tanner. Can you put a rush on it when they get back?"_

"Of course," she Nikki, "Of course I will, but –"

_"I'm going to get someone on the GPS tracker in Saul's tom-tom," Salter said. "It'll tell us where he was headed if he used it last night. And we should be able to trace his phone. Look. I'm probably worrying for nothing. He's probably just got a doctor's appointment or something. Forgot to tell us. That's all. Right?_"

"Right," she said, nodding. "Yes… yes, that's probably it."

_"If he gets in touch…"_

"Tell him to call you," Nikki said. "I will."

_"OK. I'll talk to you soon."_

Salter rang off, and Nikki put the phone down with a shaking hand.

"It's Saul," she said, her voice unsteady. "Salter thinks… Salter thinks he might be missing."

**[TBC]**


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N: **I realised that there were a ton of typos in yesterday's update – even more than usual. Sorry, I am kind of on auto-pilot at the moment. Not much time to edit. Just trying to get this finished! Thanks for all your encouragement.

**Forty-Seven**

Salter put the phone down with a sinking heart. He'd been holding out hope that Saul's relationship with Nikki Alexander had suddenly taken a leap forward. He should have known better. Ash had told him only last night he was thinking of slowing things down. And Ash always did exactly what he said he was going to do. Reuben looked up at the DS standing in front of him, waiting expectantly for instructions.

"Get on the trace," Salter ordered, heavily. "Check the tom-tom, his phone, everything. Find him."

The DS nodded before turning away. "On it."

Salter sank back in his chair, staring at the whiteboard on the far wall of the incident room. It had been turned into a patchwork of photographs and handwritten notes as the team had uncovered more and more information about the case. Reuben stared hard at the photograph of Gerard Crossfair, beside which had now been pinned the photofit of the trafficker provided by Samuel and a fuzzy, long-lens surveillance snap of Oyedele.

"I want to get him in," he said, aloud.

"Who, Oyedele?" asked one of the team, DS Peter Linus. "We're already trying to locate him, Salter. We'll pick him up as soon as we can."

"No," Salter stood up, stalking to the wall. "No, I didn't mean him. Or not just him, anyway." He stabbed a finger at the image of Crossfair. "This guy. I want him."

"There's no evidence to support picking him up for questioning."

Salter shook his head. "It's him. I know it is. He's in it up to his neck. We just need to find the link. Something hard and fast, something he can't get out of."

"Chance would be a fine thing," Linus muttered.

Salter spun round. "Look at his financials. Use a microscope, if you have to. Find _something_."

"We've done that already. There's no sign of anything untoward."

Salter slapped his hand on the edge of his desk, hard. "Well, then, do it again! Look at every transaction he's ever made. Has he got hidden accounts? Something off-shore? A company he's sloughing money into? What about his wife?"

"Salter, she's an MP. We'll never get near her. We've got no grounds."

"Bollocks. We'll ask her and make it known that we've asked her. Leak it to the press. Dig up some query about expenses – say it's in her best interests to let us look through her accounts with her blessing. She won't be able to say no, she'll look guilty."

"But what are we looking for?" asked Linus, exasperated. "We can't just go out on a bloody fishing trip!"

Salter looked back at the wall. He thought about the question that Nikki had asked when they were down at the construction yard. What were they doing with the diamonds once they got them here? _"Surely someone would notice if the UK market was suddenly flooded?_"

"They're moving them on," he realised.

Linus frowned. "Sorry?"

"The diamonds. They're not staying in the UK. They're moving them on."

"Where to?"

Salter shook his head. "Don't know." Something new occurred to him. "Hang on. Millicent Davey. Isn't she an MEP, too?"

Linus nodded. "Yeah. I think she might be. Why?"

Salter stared at the wall. Then he picked up a marker pen. He drew a circle in one corner and wrote 'DRC' in it. "Where the diamonds start off at," he said, aloud. "The mine owners know there's a market for their stones, if they can find a way to get them into the UK. So they enlist the help of someone who can help. Someone who knows the diamond market, is already on the wrong side the law, and has underground connections inside the UK. Dapa Oyedele. He knows Gerard Crossfair from the last deal they did that went pearshaped."

"Why would they work together again? Surely there would be bad blood? Crossfair went to jail for that deal."

Salter shrugged. "Maybe Crossfair still owes Oyedele. Maybe vice versa. Or maybe the money's just too tempting for either to turn down. Anyway, Oyedele can get the boys to the UK, but it's safer to do it through legitimate channels – the asylum process. He knows they'll all get dumped in that place at Folkestone – in which, conveniently, Crossfair's company has a stake. Then they break them out, which is probably the easiest part of the whole shebang." Salter drew another circle a foot or so from the first, and connected the two with a line. "So there, they've got the kids – and therefore the diamonds – into the country. Pretty neat trick."

"Then what?"

"Exactly. Then what? Where do the diamonds go after that? Who's buying them, who's selling them?" Salter tapped Crossfair's picture. "His wife is an MEP. A good reason to have connections to business people from all over."

Linus snorted. "You're telling me she's carrying a load of dodgy diamonds in her suitcase every time she goes to Brussels? You're having a laugh."

Salter shook his head. "No. She's not doing that. But I bet she's doing the deals. I bet she's their broker."

Linus crossed his arms. "All right. Leaving aside that massive leap of intuition, say that she is. What then? The diamonds are still here. They can't just send them in the post with an eBay sticker on the packet, can they?"

Salter was silent for a moment. "Tanner," he said.

"Sorry?"

"The Tanner connection we've been looking for. Between the construction company looking after the asylum centre and the one suspiciously close to where the first body went in the river. Diamond-headed drills. Tanner Industries produce synthetic diamonds for the drilling industry."

"So?"

"So, they've got an export licence. Sure, under a microscope, I bet it's easy to tell the difference between a synthetic diamond and a real one. But in a box of them? I bet they blend together pretty damn well. And they can ship anywhere, to anyone, no questions asked. I bet that even makes it easier for Oyedele to bring the diamonds here than ship them straight from the sodding Congo."

Linus stared at him. "Bloody hell."

"If Crossfair's records are clean, then the financials have to be on her side," said Salter. "They have to be. I don't care how you get hold of them, just do it. Look for payments from foreign nationals, then tally them against synth diamond exports from Tanner Industries. I bet my pension they'll match."

"And what if they do? That doesn't prove a connection – they'll just argue it's coincidence."

"Not if there's a corresponding payment from Davey or Crossfair to Tanner Industries. Check out Bathurst, Crossfair's umbrella company. There'll be a payment somewhere. A percentage of the total, siphoning back to Tanner. And somewhere along the line, _somewhere,_ Linus, those names will be on papers that link them in black and beautiful, clean, stark white."

Linus nodded. "I hope to God you're right. The more I think about it, the more I want to nail these bastards."

Salter was about to reply when there was a shout from the other end of the room. "Salter? We've got a hit on Ash's phone."

"Where?"

"An industrial estate east of Romford. What the hell is it doing out there?"

**[TBC]**


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N:** I am having serious performance anxiety over wrapping this up. Agh. Plus I keep thinking I'm only two chapters away from the end and then realising I'm not.

**Forty-Eight**

Harry watched Nikki struggle through the day, feeling strangely detached from her in a way he'd never felt before. It was almost as if his attempt to remove the barrier between them had erected an even more forceful, if even less tangible, one, in its place - one that had appeared in the wake of Salter's phone call. He understood. It looked like Saul was missing. Even if the Detective Inspector hadn't had more of a significant hold on Nikki's emotions than simply as a work colleague, it would be a terrible thing to deal with. The fact that it seemed he'd gone missing around the time that Harry and she had been working out what was going on between them… well, if such a thing could be made worse, it had been.

"Are you sure I can't do anything to help?" Harry asked now, to the back of her bowed head as she squinted into the microscope at yet another slide. Nikki hadn't had a break since the SOCO's had arrived back from Folkestone, which had been hours ago.

She shook her head, but didn't look at him.

He dug his hands in his pockets. "Have you found anything?"

Nikki swapped the slide for another and put her eye back to the eyepiece. "Well, there's DNA all over the swabs they took from the inside of the container. And there are footprints everywhere, walked in from the chalk outside. I've already matched one to the imprint we took from the riverbank at the warehouse."

"That's great – isn't it?"

Nikki finally leaned back, tipping her chin up and shutting her eyes as she rotated her shoulders. "It proves that someone was in both places. It doesn't help us narrow it down to who it was, though, does it? They're rushing the DNA results for me, but I'm not even sure that's going to help. Even if we prove this Oyedele person was at both locations, what then? How's that going to help us find-"

Her voice cracked slightly. Nikki shook her head and put her eye back to the microscope.

"You don't know that anything's happened to him," Harry said, softly. "There could be any number of reasons why he left his desk in a rush. As for his phone, ending up in Essex – it wouldn't be the first to be stolen, would it?"

Nikki shut her eyes again. "It's been almost a day Harry. What on earth-" She was interrupted as her phone rang, vibrating along the glass top of the table between them. Nikki grabbed it, glancing at the screen before giving a slight shake of her head before answering it. "Reuben?"

Harry stepped away, but didn't leave. He watched her face for a moment, feeling his heart sink as the hope on Nikki's face faded. Then she blinked in surprise and looked up at him.

"_Three_? But that means – the first body – it's not one of the boys we knew were missing. What-" She listened a little more, nodding once or twice before passing a hand over her eyes. "OK. No, send them to me. I'll get on it straight away. Thanks."

Nikki rang off and dropped her phone back in her pocket. She was silent for a moment, staring at her microscope.

"That sounded like news," Harry prompted, gently. "What's happened?"

She looked up as if she'd forgotten he was there. "They found the missing boys. They're alive. Three of them, not the two we thought there would be."

"Three? So – that's the five we had files for? And all the kids talked about by Samuel in his statement? But that means…"

Nikki nodded. "That the first body is still unidentified."

"How did they find them?" Harry asked. "And where? Did someone report seeing them, or did they escape and go looking for help – or what?"

"They were with Saul's phone," she told him. "The police traced the GPS signal from his phone."

Harry frowned, "I don't understand," he said. "They had Saul's phone?"

Nikki stood up, holding both hands to her eyes. "Not exactly. They had his coat. They were hiding under his coat, in wasteland beside an airfield. He'd left his phone in his pocket. So when they found the phone, they found the children."

There was a brief silence as Harry took in the implications of Nikki's statement. "But there wasn't any sign-"

She shook her head. "No. Anyway, look, I have to get this finished. One of Reuben's team is bringing over a batch of stones for testing."

"Stones?"

"Synthetic diamonds, a shipment that was due to go out from Tanner Industries today. Apparently if I can prove there are natural diamonds among the synthetics, they've got a reason to issue arrest warrants."

He watched as Nikki turned away again. "And you're sure I can't help?"

"No. Please, Harry…"

_Leave me alone. _She didn't say it, but he heard it in her tone.

Harry nodded, although Nikki had her back turned and couldn't see it. "I'll be here if you need me."

Nikki bent her head to the microscope again, blonde hair spilling across her shoulders as she moved. "You should go home," she told him. "It's getting late."

**[TBC]**


	49. Chapter 49

**Forty-Nine**

_"Sorry to interrupt you, Marcus, but we've got some breaking news, just in… Reports are suggesting that the MP for Folkestone and Hythe, Millicent Davey, and her husband, Gerard Crossfair, have been arrested in connection with an investigation into allegations of financial misconduct. Ms Davey, of course, also became an MEP at the last European election, having escaped, untarnished, from the expenses scandal at home, despite enduring what she described as 'unparalleled and unwarranted scrutiny and discrimination,' which she believed was as a result of her husband's criminal past. Metropolitan Police have issued a statement reiterating that they do not comment on ongoing investigations. We'll bring you more on that story as soon as we can. Now, back to Marcus, with the sport."_

**[TBC]**


	50. Chapter 50

**Fifty**

Salter slammed the door shut behind him and paced until he was at the opposite wall. Then he turned and pushed his back hard up against it, hard, curling his hands into fists inside his pockets. A moment later, the door to the interview room opened again and Linus appeared. Salter shut his eyes, mashing his shoulders against the cold concrete, angry.

"You alright?" Linus asked.

"She and that rat bastard of a husband of hers are going to walk. That brief of hers is running rings around us. He'll tell her that all she needs to do is keep her nerve and lie through her teeth and she'll be out crying police harassment in no time."

"We've got the evidence," said the Detective Constable. "It's in black and white. Payments that correspond with shipments from Tanner, always after she's had a meeting somewhere off in Europe. And that pathologist said..."

"That's enough for an arrest, but it's not enough for a conviction," said Salter, through gritted teeth. "That's what the CPS will say. That there's not enough to ensure a conviction, that if it comes to it, the defence will be able to sway a jury into thinking it was a woman being led a dance by her husband. They won't even bring the case."

Linus paced away a step, frustrated. "Then what do we do? We _know_ she's in it up to her neck."

Reuben shook his head and looked away down the corridor, thinking for a moment. Something occurred to him. "She doesn't know about the murders."

Linus frowned. "What are you talking about? They've been all over the papers."

"But there's nothing public to link them to this. Is there? I bet she's in the dark. I bet she doesn't even ask where the diamonds come from. That's probably how she sleeps at night. Don't ask, don't tell, don't feel as if you're committing a real crime."

"So?" Linus asked. "What are you thinking?"

Salter pushed himself away from the wall, re-energised. "We offer them the chance of a deal. We shock her and that smug bastard lawyer with the hacked up kids. There's not a jury on Earth that won't be swayed by that, and they'll both know it. If she comes clean, says she'll testify and gives us something on Crossfair, something we can verify - we're home free."

"You sure she'll go for it?" Linus asked, doubtfully. "She'd be selling out her own husband."

"Oh, she'll go for it," Salter told him, moving back toward the door. "She's a politician."

His fingers were on the doorhandle when there was a shout from the other end of the corridor. Salter looked up to see the uniform duty sergeant barrelling toward them with a grim look on his face.

"Salter," he said. "They've found something."

**[TBC]**


	51. Chapter 51

**A/N:** I'm sorry to make you wait for this. Life is pretty crazy at the moment.

**51**

Harry had already gone to bed when the doorbell rang. He turned over and looked blearily at his bedside clock. It was past two. He checked his phone, but there were no missed calls. After a moment, Harry forced himself out of bed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

He pulled on a T-shirt on his way to the door. The bell went again before he reached it.

"I'm coming," he called, as he went to pull it open. "Hold on-"

Nikki stood on the step, huddled against the cold. It was clear she'd been crying.

"They've found his car," she said, before Harry could react. "Someone had burned it. There's nothing left."

He reached for her, pulling her across the threshold and into the warmth of his flat.

"I don't want to be alone," she told him. "But Harry… I can't... I can't-"

Harry pulled her against him. "It's OK," he told her. "I'm here. I'm always here, you know that."

She nodded against his shoulder, and he could feel her trembling, from cold, but from shock, too.

"There's nothing else?" he asked. "Just the car?"

Nikki bunched her hands into his T-shirt. "There's a DNA match to Odeyele, from the container in the yard. But he's gone. Crossfair's started talking – he gave the police an address, but it was clean. They can't find him anywhere. Salter thinks he's probably on his way back to Nigeria. He's going to get away."

Harry rubbed his hands up and down Nikki's arms. There wasn't anything useful he could say. With Crossfair and his wife in custody and the other main suspect missing, all they could do was wait. And the longer they waited for news, the worse it would likely be for Ash. But that was something Harry wouldn't voice, not now, not to Nikki.

"Come on," he said, gently, pulling away. "It's late. You're exhausted. Come and get warm."

Nikki made a move toward his sofa, bit Harry caught her hand and led her in the direction of his bedroom. Nikki hesitated.

"Harry..."

"Hey," he said. "I saw you at work today. You didn't stop. You're exhausted, and frankly, so am I. I can be trusted. Come to bed."

On the threshold, she hesitated again. Harry let go of her hand and went to his clothes cupboard, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of his boxers. He held them out, indicating the bathroom. Nikki took them and disappeared for a few moments. He heard water running as he got back into bed, leaning against the headboard. Nikki reappeared. His top swamped her, and with her pale face scrubbed clean of make-up, she looked incredibly young. She slipped under the duvet and lay on her back, looking up at him.

"Why is the world such a terrible place, Harry?" she asked. "Why do these things happen? All this pain, all this _waste_... And for what?"

He touched a hand to her forehead, brushing away the hair that had strayed there. "It's not all bad. Is it? And I like to think we help make it a little better."

Nikki blinked. "I used to think we did. But now... I'm not so sure. Saul and Reuben - they really are trying to make the world a better place. But me? I can't even identify that first child's torso. And now I probably never will."

She turned away from him, curling her legs up beneath the cover. There wasn't anything Harry could say to that, either, not least because she was probably right. Instead, he moved closer and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him. Her skin smelled of his soap.

"You do make the world a better place," he said softly into her ear, as she closed her eyes. "All you have to do is be in it."

He reached over her to switch off the light and then lay back in the dark, listening for her breathing to level out. It stayed uneven for a long time, and Harry knew her well enough to be able to read her troubled thoughts through the unsettled pulse beneath his forearm. He thought about her words as he'd pulled her inside. She needed him, now, as she had so often in the past - as a friend, not a lover, as a support to lean against as times worsened. And he could live with that. He already had done, for a long time, without really ever realising he wanted more. He wondered why would happen now, if Ash were found alive and well. What gratitude would do to them, if…

Harry stopped himself. Not if. _When_. It had to be when. Because if not, then despite what he had told Nikki and what he couldn't help but want from her, then the world was a far harsher place than even he wanted to believe.

The night wore on into the morning, but Harry didn't really sleep. Nikki was fitful, too, but she was asleep when the phone call came, which was why he heard it first. A low, tinkling sound that Harry recognised as Nikki's mobile. It was just after 5am. He freed his arm, careful not to wake her, and got out of bed again. The phone rang on as he searched for her bag, finding it beside the front door.

He pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was an unknown number. Harry glanced back toward the bed, but Nikki hadn't stirred, and for some reason he knew it shouldn't be her that answered. He pressed the call button and held it to his ear.

"Doctor Alexander's phone."

There was a moment of silence, punctuated by uneven breathing, and then Reuben's Salter's voice came on the line. _"Is Nikki there?"_

Harry glanced toward the bed again. "She's asleep. It's Detective Salter, isn't it?"

There was another pause. _"Yes," _Salter said, then, his voice oddly muffled, somehow_. "Is that – is that Doctor Cunningham?"_

"Yes, it is."

_"I called at her flat but couldn't get an answer. I was worried, the lab – the lab, they said she'd left hours ago. Where is she?"_

Harry rubbed one shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable. "She's fine. Well, not fine, but… She's with me. At my place."

Salter didn't answer for a moment. _"Oh. Right."_

"It's not…" Harry squeezed his eyes shut. "It's not exactly what you might think…"

There was a sound on the line, like a strangled intake of breath intended as a laugh. _"Right. It's fine, anyway. It's better. That she's not – that's she's not on her own. I didn't want to tell her on the phone, but I couldn't find – I couldn't find… her…"_

With a jolt, Harry realised that what Salter's voice was muffled by was tears. "What-"

"_We found a torso,"_ Salter said, forging on. _"Not far – not far from the airfield."_

Harry took a breath, but for a moment, he couldn't speak. "Are you sure?" he asked, eventually. "Are you sure that it's…that's it's Ash? Maybe it's not him. Maybe-"

"_He, uh… he had a scar,"_ Salter interrupted. _"An appendectomy scar, from when he was a kid. I knew about it. He helped me build our garden wall last year, and it was a hot day, and…" _Harry heard the detective swallow, hard. _"And one of the kids… one of the kids said they were saved by a man calling himself a gendarme. A big black man, is what the boy said. 'A big black man, with a good face.' And then they heard… Anyway. I'm sure. I'm sure. It's Saul."_

Harry stared silently out of his window into the blackness beyond. The unstarred sky had taken on a heavy quality above the perpetual hue of the city's polluted glow. It was that darkest point, that last hour before the dawn, when it always seems as if the night will last forever.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, softly, though he wasn't sure who he was apologising to – Salter, or to Ash himself. "I'm so sorry."

"_Did he know?"_ Salter asked, after a moment. _"I mean, about – about you and Doctor Alexander?"_

Harry pinched his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "It's not… No. We didn't – _we_ didn't even know. We still don't."

He could imagine Salter nodding, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

"_The last time I spoke to him, Saul was laughing,"_ Salter told him, then. _"I hadn't heard him laugh in a long time. And she was the reason. So I choose to believe that he died happy. Because of her. And that – that makes her all right in my book. OK? Tell her that, will you?"_

Harry nodded at his reflection in the glass. "I will."

_"I've got to go. We've charged Crossfair, and there's a warrant out for Tanner. I want to make sure the jury will nail the bastards to the wall."_

Salter hung up. Harry stayed at the window, trying to trace the shape of the oak tree that stood outside with his eyes, but the night had swallowed it whole. Then he put down the phone, and went back to the bedroom.

Nikki was awake. She'd turned the bedside light on, but still lay curled on her side, and she was crying, silently. Harry crouched beside her, his bare feet cold on the polished boards.

"It's him, isn't it?" she asked.

"Yes. I'm sorry. That was Salter. I'm sorry, Nikki. I'm just… sorry." Harry brushed his fingers over her cheeks, trying to stem her tears.

She reached up and caught his hands, looking him in the eye for the first time. "This isn't going to go away," she said, voice breaking. "This is going to stay with me. Maybe forever, and I…"

Harry moved, shifting her backwards on the bed so that he could lie beside her.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe it will stay forever. Maybe it should. But then… so will I, Nikki. I said I didn't know. But I do. I do."

Nikki began to cry in earnest then, and Harry pulled her against him, their legs twining together.

They stayed like that for a long, long time.

**[END]**

**A/N: **This is actually the penultimate chapter, but since the next one will be an Epilogue, this is the end, in practical terms. I hope it's not too disappointing. Thank you to everyone for reading, I really, REALLY appreciate it, and the reviews have been wonderful encouragement. I've just bought a load of books on Criminology, Forensics and Pathology, so maybe I'll write another when I know more about the subject. I know this plot had many holes in it, but I hope that you can maybe imagine it as an episode of the show, which is the style I hoped to emulate. There are always loose ends. There aren't always happy endings. I would also hope that, if you took out the expository stuff and just had the dialogue, that they would be characters you recognise.

I hope that you liked Ash and Salter. I really love them as characters, and I'm thinking I might resurrect them both and give them their own story, somehow, perhaps by stripping out the _Silent Witness_ stuff, doubling the length of the story, and filling in the plot/tech holes. What do you think?

Thanks again, massively.


	52. Chapter 52

**Epilogue**

**Eight Weeks Later**

The sun was setting, it's last stubborn rays spinning tendrils of bright colour along the edges of the still-heavy winter clouds. The cemetery car park was empty save for Nikki's car - she was the last visitor of the day. Through the windows she could hear the hopeful, warbling song of a lone nightingale, too impatient to wait for night. She let her engine cool and listened to the melody for a moment, before reaching over to pick up her flowers and opening the car door.

Saul's grave was set close beside Lydie's, beneath a wide and spreading Plane tree. It wasn't the first time Nikki had visited, but it was the first time she had arrived so late. The early evening brought the sort of hush it is impossible to find in cities save for at dusk and inside churchyards, and so this place was doubly blessed. The silence - save for the perpetually singing bird, distant now but still distinct - was almost physical. It dulled the pain of her reason for being there, and the lingering memory of Saul's end.

Nikki unwrapped the roses and split them between the two graves before retreating to sit on the bench set around the tree. She shut her eyes, thinking of the brief time she had known Saul, and of all the things that had happened, around and between them. It seemed impossible, somehow, that he was no longer in the world, and on the other hand she sometimes wondered if they had ever really met at all.

"I wondered who it was bringing the flowers."

Nikki jumped, opening her eyes to see Reuben Salter standing beside her.

"Reuben!"

He sat down beside her, stretching his legs out, his worn grey overcoat brushing the pebbles beneath the bench. In his hand was a bunch of white roses, identical to the ones she had brought.

"How did you know they should be white?" he asked.

Nikki shook her head. "I didn't know. They just... seemed appropriate for Saul. Simple. Beautiful."

Salter nodded. "It's good of you, but you don't have to, you know. You didn't know him very long."

Nikki stared at the inscription on Saul's grave. _He lived for others._ "How long is long enough?"

Salter nodded. "I didn't mean... sorry. I didn't mean that badly. I just don't want you to let guilt take over. Saul did that, and it wasn't right. You - you made things better for him. Made him think there was a future, where before there wasn't. It's me who should feel guilty. I went home that night. Early, too. It was slack. I should have gone back in. I should have-"

Nikki put her hand on his arm. "It _wasn't_ your fault. Of course it wasn't. Odeyele and his men - they murdered him. They-"

She broke off. Thinking about what must have happened that night still opened a wound in her heart. Nikki blinked away tears. "What upsets me the most is that no one will pay for that. That they got away. That there is no justice for Saul."

Salter leaned forward, the evening breeze ruffling his hair as he rested his elbows on his knees.

"Ash would say that justice isn't finite," he told her. "That it isn't about righting one wrong but about making sure that others don't happen in the same way. That's why justice and revenge are two different things. So he would say that justice _has_ been done, because we shut that pipeline. Because he saved those three kids and made sure there wouldn't be others. Because we got Crossfair and Tanner."

"And what about you?"

Salter glanced at her, and then down at his hands. "I say the next time Odeyele surfaces, someone will have to stop me ripping his throat out."

Nikki's phone rang in her pocket. She rushed to silence it, hating the intrusion. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm on call."

Salter nodded. "So am I."

Nikki leaned over and kissed his cheek before standing. "Take care, Reuben."

"You too," he said, softly.

She walked away, glancing back as she put the phone to her ear. Salter remained, leaning forward, a lonely figure in the fading light.

"Doctor Alexander," she listened for a moment. "OK. I'm on my way. Tell me where…"

It was very late by the time she got home. Her flat was in darkness and cold, too, a testament to the lateness of the hour – her timed heating had switched itself off. Nikki opened the door and dropped her bag on the table, shrugging off her coat. She undressed in the living room, folding her clothes over the back of the couch, shivering as the cold air traced goosebumps along her skin.

The bedroom was in darkness. She slipped under the duvet and shuffled the width of the bed until she came up against Harry's back.

"Mmph," he mumbled, sleepily, fumbling around until he found her hands and then pulling her arms around him. "You're freezing."

"Sorry."

"What time is it?"

"Very late."

"Did you get called to that pile up?"

"Yes…"

Harry let go of one of her hands and reached back, crooking his arm awkwardly to run his palm down her side from her ribs to her backside. "You feel suspiciously bare. Are you naked?"

She snickered quietly, lips against the curve of his C3 and C4 vertebrae. "I might be. You'll have to turn over to find out."

He did, their limbs tangling together. "Should I take this as a hint?"

"Do you need one?"

"Not really," he admitted, as he kissed her.

Later still, Nikki lay against his chest, her left hand spread against his ribs, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing beneath her cheek. Harry's fingers were tangled gently in her hair as he dozed.

"You were right, you know," she said softly.

"About what?"

"This world. It's not all bad. And maybe, after all - we do make a difference."

He shifted to kiss her forehead. Nikki turned over, feeling him wrap himself around her, already almost asleep.

Outside her window, another bird was singing. In her dreams, it was the same one, and it was happy.

**[END]**


End file.
